Falling
by mellowenglishgal
Summary: She always forgot how handsome he was, until he was right up close. He'd rattled her this morning, catching him watching her stretching, those pretty hazel eyes warm and content, self-satisfied smirk in place, the fat cat savouring the dish of cream, drinking her in…remembering, maybe... If Kat didn't have bipolar, and knew the truth about her fall from the beginning.
1. Lutz

**A.N.**: After bingeing _Spinning Out_, I realised I've watched too much _Shameless US_: What if Kat wasn't bipolar, and had become Serena's primary caregiver before her fall, due to Carol's bipolar? In this version, Kat and Justin's mothers were skaters together when they were young; Kat and Justin knew each other better when they were little. Also, Kat knows from the beginning that the fall was Carol's fault.

Did anyone else get whiplash more from Jenn's emotional boomeranging than from Kat's mania? And how nasty Serena was from the very beginning? And who wants more Gabe in their lives? I desperately want to see him skating solo next season, dressed as Loki.

Where do I sign up to the Mandy Davis Fan Club? Because she's seriously an _amazing_ woman.

Virtue and Moir are of course huge inspiration for Kat and Justin's potential: And Torvill and Dean's 1984 Olympic performance to "Bolero" is one everyone should watch if they love pair-skating, my dad introduced it to me last night - he still remembers watching it!

* * *

**Falling**

_01_

_Lutz_

* * *

"_You ever put your arms out and spin really, really fast? Well, that's what love's like. It makes your heart race. It turns the world upside down. But if you're not careful, if you don't keep your eyes on something still, you can lose your balance. You can't see what's happening to the people around you. You can't see you're about to fall_" - Practical Magic

* * *

She always forgot how handsome he was, until he was right up close. He'd rattled her this morning, catching him watching her stretching, those pretty hazel eyes warm and content, self-satisfied smirk in place, the fat cat savouring the dish of cream, drinking her in…remembering, maybe.

All she could seem to do, if her thoughts lingered on Justin Davis too long, was think of that night, the toe-curling mistake she had made - if she could even think of it as a _mistake_ \- one of the few things recently that she did not regret, at least not for it having happened. And that was bad, right, when she now had a boyfriend? Was she an awful person to compare? Thinking of their night together last year still made her go hot all over, a flush appearing from her cheeks to her chest. She was the worst for blushing. She felt like that smirk X-rayed her mind - as if, somehow, he _knew_ she was constantly thinking of their night together. When she took matters into her own hands, it was _him_ she thought of, his patient, talented fingers, those infuriating, smirking lips. He'd taken the time, paid attention to every detail. He'd explored, and luxuriated in it. He'd left her breathless.

She'd bet he remembered every detail too, from that look he'd given her this morning, the one that had set her blood on fire - a thrill she rarely experienced off the ice, the one that confused her and got her brain going into overdrive about all the wrong things.

They all knew Justin's M.O.: He never looked back. And yet he looked her way _constantly_.

It was irritating, actually - only because she didn't know what to do with it.

She also didn't know what to do with this quiet, dejected Justin sat with his shoulders hunched, worrying the thumb-hole of his Under Armour. He looked…anxious. Guilty, almost. An unfamiliar expression on Justin Davis' face. As she lingered, he seemed to blink himself out of whatever thoughts had him so introspective, focusing on her, almost surprised to see her; his signature smirk felt half-hearted. "How's Natalie?"

"Uh…the E.M.T. managed to get the blade out, but it was wedged in there good… Guess she's in surgery, fixing whatever damage was done," Justin sighed heavily, looking glum. He grimaced, shuddering, as if suffering his own visceral reaction to Natalie's injury. She noticed him still worrying the hem of his sleeve.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

He scoffed gently, shaking his head. "You're probably the only person in this place who thinks that. _She_ won't think that."

"Why would Natalie think it's your fault?"

"I guess my head wasn't in it today," he said, giving her another one of those weird looks she couldn't figure out - didn't want to. Flustered, she glanced away as she tucked her skirt beneath her and sat beside him on the bench, reaching for her bag of snacks to hide her face. She guessed what he was implying - didn't want to flatter herself…but she knew he watched her whenever they shared the ice. She wasn't brave or stupid enough to read too much into it, to risk opening that can of worms.

"Today?" Kat countered, raising her eyebrows expressively, and realised Justin was watching her again. She cleared her throat gently, suddenly embarrassed because of the look that flickered across his face - taken aback, almost hurt. She shrugged slightly. "You've been bored with her for months." He gave her a confused half-smile.

"What?"

"I know I block everything out when I'm on the ice, but even I could tell that you and Natalie weren't…well, I - it's not my place, because I think she's sweet and talented, but…you were holding yourself back," Kat said, wincing apologetically. She hated - _hated_ \- the rink-side politics,_ loathed_ the Ice Queens who lingered, circling, _hoping_ for blood, sacrificing cheap chardonnay to heathen gods so the competition would suffer shin-splints and contusions. Nobody was under any illusions that the mommies-dearest wouldn't sell their souls and slit each other's throats if it meant their daughters would get just one spot closer to the podium during competition season. But Justin looked so sad, she wanted to give her honest opinion: Try as she might, Natalie could not get to Justin's level. He could only carry her so far.

"Hey, I don't hold myself back for anyone," he said, giving her a lewd smirk, and she rolled her eyes.

"Come on," she said softly. "Your face needs deliverance. You might wanna brush up in acting class if you don't want people seeing how you really feel about them."

He raised an eyebrow, giving her a pointed look she didn't care to decipher. He smirked when she frowned, her cheeks warm. "I haven't gone to acting classes in five years."

"Yeah, it shows," Kat quipped. Justin winced, glancing at her.

"You think she knows?"

"Natalie?" she asked. She nodded slowly. "The gossips around here…they'll be doing their utmost to psych her out before competition season starts. Everyone knows your average by now, Justin. She was the third in three years."

"Think we both know my average is _way_ higher," Justin said, giving her a lingering look.

She narrowed her eyes, even as she felt warmth spreading across her skin. "Don't be an ass when I'm trying to be nice."

"You're right," Justin backpedalled, cringing. "I'm sorry. You're the only one who hasn't given me side-eye since Natalie was wheeled out of here." She realised something, then: The smooth, unflappable Justin Davis - was shaken. He was _shaking_; his fingers were trembling. And she had the sudden urge to hold them.

"I'm just saying…it's easy to let things get into your head," Kat said softly, and Justin nodded to himself.

"Speaking of…how's yours?" Justin asked, glancing at her hair: Kat's hand went instinctively to her head, to the long, thin scar hidden by her thick, dark hair, something inside her going stark, whatever warmth from his lingering gaze cooling. She couldn't feel it, usually - unless she used the wrong hairbrush, and the bristles snagged against the scar. But when people asked her about it, the scar may as well have been the Grand Canyon, it seemed so conspicuous - even though she took care to hide the scar with her hairstyles. Not easy to do when she relied on a compact mirror most mornings; but she was learning her scar, as she had learned to make up her face and dress her figure to flatter. She set her hair to hide her scar.

"It is what it is, I guess," she said hoarsely, clenching her hand into a fist beside her thigh, not wanting to show how rattled it made her, people drawing focus to her fall, to the scar she could hide but would always have with her, a constant reminder three inches from her left ear, curving around her skull. She opened the Ziploc full of protein balls she had made earlier in the week, and offered the bag to Justin. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Chocolate?"

Contraband. She might as well have brought cocaine to the rink: The mommies would be turning their noses up and smirking about Kat's future cellulite - but the protein bites were just that - a healthier, more satisfying alternative to energy bars.

"Chocolate brownie protein balls," she said, smiling warmly. "They're like eating brownie batter - without the guilt." Justin moaned, nodding to himself in enjoyment as he chewed the protein ball. They were one of her favourite tried-and-true recipes. She'd finally found couch-space with someone who appreciated her early rising and her abilities in the kitchen - she'd taken on the unofficial roles of early-morning alarm and live-in chef - so she'd been enjoying the opportunity to cook and prep: She couldn't afford to buy ready-made snacks. Hers were healthier anyway, and tasted way better. She startled slightly when Justin reached for the mandarins nestled in her lap, but he just picked one up and deftly started peeling it.

"Still hate peeling them?" he asked, as he opened up the peel like a flower, taking care with the pith. Kat gave him a funny look, watching him.

"I can't believe you remember that," she said softly. She did hate peeling oranges, and always had. She hated getting the stuff under her fingernails; she had trained herself not to put her hands anywhere near her mouth while she was working, too tempted to clean her fingernails that way. And Carol slapped her hands anytime she thought Kat was biting off her nail-polish. Presentation was half of skating, Carol always said.

_Appearances were everything_.

"I remember a lot," Justin said, his smile fading as he handed her the mandarin segment by segment, picked clean. She couldn't help notice his hands as he ate half the mandarin - strong, with slender, clever fingers and neat fingernails. She remembered those hands, the way he used them so expertly, even those neat fingernails dragging lightly against her skin, over her nipples as he cupped her breasts…she fought the hot flush threatening to sweep through her body. "I think you were the only person who loved my mom's snacks more than I did."

"The snacks were great; it's your mom I loved most… It's nice that your stepmother comes to watch you practice every week," she said softly, ignoring his eye-roll; they all knew Justin's attitude to the new Mrs Davis. Kat didn't blame him for it, just wished he wouldn't take it for granted that his dad's wife _cared_. Justin's mom had been dead for nearly eleven years, and Justin's dad had remarried five years ago - around the time Justin had attained a new level of asshole. Kat had cried every day for a month when Mrs Davis was killed by that drunk driver…her friend's death, combined with Reggie's abandonment, had put Carol into another one of her tailspin manic-depressive episodes, refusing to take her lithium, and Kat couldn't afford to think about anything but providing for Serena, _not_ letting her see the very worst of their mom…

"Shitty timing, Natalie's fall…you have your senior test today, right?" Justin asked, and Kat nodded, trying to psych herself up to it - and at the same time, not let herself worry too much about the ramifications if she failed. The _tightrope_… "Are you gonna be okay to skate?"

"I'll have to be," Kat said honestly, sighing.

Justin shook his head. "My dad would love your attitude. Can anything stop you?"

"Only the judges... I keep popping jumps that used to be second-nature," she confessed, though everyone knew it. There was no such thing as private ice: They all shared the rink and every flaw was catalogued and snidely smirked over, every triumph inspiring dread and envy. She shook her head, trying to rally. "I'm…rattled."

"You split your head open like a cantaloupe and you got back out on the ice," Justin said, shaking his head.

"Thank you for that visual," she grimaced, and sighed. "Maybe I did have brain-damage after all."

"That's the working theory among the _mommies_," Justin smirked, shooting the gathered women a nasty look as they tried and failed to look like they weren't watching their every move, trying to lip-read their conversation across the foyer.

"Ass," she smiled, shoving him gently with her arm.

"Doesn't change the fact you outskate every one of their daughters on your _worst_ day even with the contusion," Justin said, his voice low - oddly earnest. "If you're unsettled, why don't you put it off? Take the test in another six months? Give yourself time, you know?"

"No, I - I have to take the test today. I can't afford the rink-time to keep in shape if I fuck up today," she admitted, wondering where this was coming from - she hadn't told anyone about her finances, any of that, not even Jenn. Carol had told all the regulars that Kat, World's Most Ungrateful Daughter, had thrown a "fit" and walked out on the family. They all knew Kat was sofa-surfing, sneaking into her boyfriend's dorm, house-sitting or sleeping in her car, depending on how her luck was that week. Most people had guessed Kat's financial situation was pretty dire, and like Justin had said…even with a reduced number of sessions due to the stretch on her finances…Kat still outskated them all. If they couldn't reduce Kat to tears over her performance on the ice, they could tear her down about her situation outside of the rink. As if they had any idea what her life was like to judge her.

"You won't," Justin said easily, and she scoffed gently.

"I just…need to start coaching," she said softly. "If I can find anyone willing to let me coach their kid after my fall, that is."

Justin frowned, as if he was going to say something serious, then shook his head, changing his mind. He teased, "Need to get out of the hotel, huh?"

"Not that I don't love bringing your girls room-service," Kat jabbed back, and Justin grinned. "But, yes, eventually I would like to leave the hotel. Get some clients, get my own place, get Serena away…just skate when I feel like it, for the love of it."

"You won't miss competing?" Justin asked curiously.

Kat sighed, reflecting. She'd had opportunity to do a lot of that recently, ever since her fall. She'd woken up in the hospital and started making some decisions that surprised even her - she'd made some enemies out of it, but ultimately…she had to think of herself, and her safety. It wasn't her instinct to be selfish, after twenty-one years of her mother's emotional abuse, sixteen years of thinking of how best to protect Serena from the realities of their mother's mental illness…she'd cut ties, and that wasn't a popular decision, for anyone involved - but it was the safest decision Kat had ever made. She knew it was the right decision, even if it felt wrong to leave Serena behind.

She was no good to Serena dead.

"I have enough trophies," was all she told Justin. He didn't need to know the rest. This was the first time they had really talked in months: They were both pretending they hadn't slept together. And she was fine with that: She actually quite liked just talking to him. Sometimes he reminded her of the kid she remembered, when they were little, and his mom snuck her and Serena snacks after their sessions, somehow instinctively knowing that there wasn't enough food at home or money coming in to provide their own.

Sometimes she saw the glimmers of the sweet kid she remembered; maybe he saw glints in her, of the kid she'd been, too. They had both changed.

They said experience was a brutal teacher.

They'd both learned.

Justin smirked, as the guy Kat recognised as his personal trainer spotted Justin lounging and snacking and scowled, striding over. "You can never have too many trophies, Kat."

"Are you gonna go see Natalie later?" she asked.

"Probably. Dasha will likely drag me to the hospital after my session," he sighed, rolling his shoulders and starting to stretch his arms as his trainer appeared, glowering, Justin's scary, redheaded Russian coach strolling behind in her fur coat. "Back to the Gulag."

"You know, you'll get a longer sentence for _sass_," Kat warned, smiling gently, and Justin grinned. He did that walking-backwards thing as he blatantly checked her out, smirking. She couldn't help smiling back - flattered, in spite of her better judgement: It was nice to flirt sometimes. The scary Russian gave Kat a long look, eyebrows arched, before following Justin to the weight-room: Kat still wasn't used to her scrutiny, even after the months of her watching, ever since she had returned to the ice after her fall.

People were still surprised Kat had laced on her skates and glided back on the ice. As if there was any other option, any other way of life she could revert back to. All Kat knew was skating. It was what she loved: It was all she wanted to do. It was all she _could_ do, after her upbringing: There had never been any other option open to her. She was never going to go to college: She was going to the Olympics. Anything less was inexcusable - and a waste of Carol's time.

She'd told Kat as much.

Gold, or go. The ultimatum was simple, really.

Lithium or no, Kat knew where her mother's priorities were.

Kat had raised her arms before her jump.

She had cracked her skull open, her blood staining the ice.

She had been shaken to her core. And she'd had to evaluate what mattered. What would make her safe? She'd had to make the choice: to live in her car; or on the generosity of friends offering their couches; to spend more nights with Dave than she was prepared for just so she had a warm place to sleep, rather than live under her mother's roof where she knew she was unsafe.

It said something about Carol Baker that Kat would rather risk the dangers of sleeping in her car in an empty parking-lot than return to the home she had grown up in, the home drenched in memories of Carol's bipolar episodes, and every scar they had given Kat over the years as she took the hits rather than let Serena share in the damage.

Until now…

She had moved out of her mother's house, cut ties with her mother - did her utmost to maintain contact with Serena, no matter how selfish and spiteful and hurtful Serena was - but the ice… The ice would never let her leave. If her life was ever turned into a horror-movie, it would be a psycho-thriller about the sentient rink's psychic control over her every move, forcing her to skate until she dropped dead… _Almost_ dead.

Her love of the ice outweighed her hatred and distrust of her mother, her better sense about her finances - even her PTSD couldn't keep a hold on her for long when faced with the threat of a life without skating.

* * *

Kat popped the fucking Lutz.

She saw Carol waiting, watching.

In the back of her mind, the back of her head - the scar sweeping from above her ear toward her neck - she remembered…lifting her arms, though instinct told her not to listen to the last-minute instruction that contradicted all her training…

She remembered the steady _beep_…_beep_…_beep_ of monitors, the scent of antiseptic, the lethargy from pain medication…

Carol's passive-aggressive guilt - her _shame_, and her lies…

She remembered Vicki's confession.

Kat remembered that her mother had almost killed her.

She failed her test.

* * *

**A.N.**: I do feel for Kat and Serena, as Carol has obviously put all their eggs in one Olympic-sized basket instead of letting skating be one part of who they were, allowing them to have an education and healthy, fulfilled lives off the ice, with a lot of opportunities open to them (also Jenn, but her attitude toward Kat sucks toward the end).

Never been the first to post a story to a new category before!


	2. Perfect Illusion

**A.N.**: For _QueenOfHearts143_, thank you for being the very first to review this story! Also, a big thanks to _JJ03_ and _jsummd_ for your reviews!

Also, just because Kat isn't bipolar in this version doesn't mean I'll be completely disregarding canon to make this story easier/less drama - I have plenty of chaos planned! Also, I'm curious about where Kat's father disappeared to - I intend to bring my version of him in, later. And I'll be exploring Gabe's backstory. The focus in the show seems to be Kat's bipolar, rather than the combination of that plus the emotional and psychological side-effects of caring for Serena whenever Carol has an episode. Most of this inspiration comes from Fiona Gallagher from _Shameless_ and her interactions with her mother Monica, but a little of Ian Gallagher's struggles with bipolar, too.

I'm putting Justin's age at about 25, with Kat nearly 22; the twins are 17 and Serena is 16; Gabe is 27 and Leah is 24.

I should also probably note that all I know about figure-skating can be distilled into _I,_ _Tonya_, _Spinning Out_ and watching a lot of _YouTube_ videos of Virtue and Moir and Torvill and Dean! The technical terms are above my head!

Oh, and the erotic novella by Cherrie Lynn, _Breathe Me In_, inspired Justin and Kat's night together! I can't get enough of Ghost.

* * *

**Falling**

_02_

_Perfect Illusion_

* * *

Locked in that hideous place between complete mental exhaustion and utter wakefulness, she tried not to fidget, not to disturb Dave snoring gently behind her, satisfied from sex and content from a life where everything had started to line up for him, and kept her eyes closed in the hopes that sleep would sneak in and allow her to _rest_, to forget, for a few hours, how fucked she was.

She wished sex with Dave was as satisfying as he felt it was - not that she would ever say so. He was perfectly nice. She just couldn't…lose herself to it, with him - not the way… Not the way she had before, not the way she had lost herself…to Justin. She sighed heavily, frowning in the dark, fidgeting - she shouldn't be thinking about Justin, not with her boyfriend's arm draped over her waist, dissatisfied by their love-making, mentally exhausted and overwrought… Kat couldn't help it. She had let go with Justin because there had been no danger of him…wanting _more_. Of wanting or even bothering to try to get too close… Kat didn't do close: And that was why sex for Kat was rarely satisfying.

She always had her guard up.

Kat was too much inside her own head most of the time, to live in the moment, to let go… Failing her senior test; Dasha's suggestion; Dave's offer. Her financial status; her homelessness; her…lack of a future…

Everything had been about skating, for as long as she could remember. Skating was all she knew, all she remembered; there wasn't a time in her life when she could remember _not_ skating - even her fall hadn't kept her off the ice for more than a few months, and she had been irascible about being kept off it. The exquisite paradox of sheer brutal force of will paired with seemingly effortless grace, elegance and athleticism and power, showmanship and skill. Artistry and domination, creative expression and physics - defiance _of _the laws of physics - glamour and gruesome injuries… She loved it: She was deathly afraid of it. And she wasn't ready to let it go. Not yet. She wasn't done.

Her failed test would tell her she was.

She had popped the Double Lutz - Justin's scary Russian coach was right; Kat shouldn't be popping such a simple jump. And Kat was right: She was _terrified_.

And that terror had stopped her doing the one thing that could secure her future - passing the test. To qualify to become a coach. _Earning_ enough money to get her own apartment, a safe place for her - and for Serena, to be together, to be sisters…to be _safe_… A haven, away from Carol. Where skating wasn't the be-all-and-end-all; where they had _choices_. Options. Where they could skate for the love of it. Where Serena could go to college, if that was what she wanted; where it was an _option_, and where Kat would support her no matter what her choice was. She wanted Serena to be happy.

Six months until the next test… It wasn't paying for the ice time that was going to be the issue. She could scrimp and save and sew and wait tables, prepare meals and house-sit, dog-walk and do whatever else it took to pay her way. It was the coaching she couldn't afford - and she didn't mean physical coaching: She knew most of her problem wasn't her physical training and technical mastery. it was her head. And how was she supposed to fix what was inside her head, when she couldn't afford therapy and wasn't willing to sacrifice her income to pay for it anyway, not when just getting on the ice was therapy enough. There, she was free. There, she was unafraid…until she overthought jumping. Her arms would start to burn, though she never raised them; and her head would start to throb. She'd remember the impact, the lights, and then…nothing… The terror of _not_ waking up again was what stopped her from even attempting jumps that were once as second-nature and unbothersome to her as stepping from the sidewalk.

She hated not jumping. She _missed_ it. The adrenaline - the conquest - knowing she was dominating, she was skating to the very best of her ability, and pushing that limit all the time… She had been working on her Triple Axel before her fall - it hadn't been part of either her short programme or her free skate - she had intended to use it to get herself to Nationals the next year if she could land it consistently - and as Dasha had said, she used to land all her triples consistently. There had been no reason for her to believe that she couldn't land the Triple Axel too. She'd thought she would add her name to the very short list of women who had landed Triple Axels in the most elite competitions in the ice-skating world. _Then_.

If she spent the winter sewing competition costumes for anyone who set a blade onto the ice who could be convinced to purchase a custom costume from her, she might be able to cover her skating fees at the Arena, and put her waitressing pay-cheques and tips toward contributing to wherever she was staying that week, and the rest into savings… But she couldn't afford the coach. She couldn't afford to get her head fixed. She couldn't afford to keep going.

That was it.

She couldn't keep torturing herself over it. As she had told Justin, it was what it was. And it wasn't all her fault. She had tried; and whatever she chose to do next, she would dominate. It was her nature: She didn't know how to live without striving for something impossible. So maybe she just switched focus: Take her talent for costumes and sewing and invest in that, make a business out of her costumes and enjoy proximity to the ice and occasional forays in her skates - just for the love of it. Put the money she made toward her own apartment, and do her utmost to create the world, the life, she had always yearned for herself.

Or…_London_.

She couldn't believe he had even asked her - as if it was even an _option_ for her. He was the med student with the bright future… Without skating, she was just Kat. Kat, who got her diploma with a hope, far in the back of her mind where impossible, intangible dreams lived, of going to college. She had no degree; no real skills. She sewed; and she tutored home-schooled kids in math; she babysat; and she waited tables; she worked in housekeeping; and she did dog-walking. She baked; and cooked meals-on-wheels for elderly neighbours. She was paid well to dance at some of the clubs in wintertime to get kids dancing - to get them thirsty and buying overpriced drinks at the bar. She prepped time-shared houses for the ski season, cleaning them, airing them out and filling the refrigerator.

Whatever she had to do, to carry herself - to create an emergency "squirrel fund" to cover Carol when she inevitably got fired or quit in the haze of one of her manic episodes. To pay the mortgage on the house - to keep a roof over Serena's head, even if Kat no longer lived under it with her. Kat could've had her own place several times over not for Carol coming off her meds and spiralling into one of her episodes, forcing Kat to cover her finances while they got Carol back on her feet, dosed up and gainfully employed, no-one any the wiser that Carol was an unfit mother. Anything to keep Serena safe. To keep her at home, with her family, doing what she loved.

Kat jumped as someone's phone started vibrating on Dave's desk where it was charging, the screen illuminating violently. Squinting, groaning as she sat up, hissing at the cold as the comforter slid away, Kat reached for her phone - if it was Jenn drunk-dialling her for a ride from the club, she was out of luck. It wasn't Jenn.

She checked the time on Dave's alarm as she accepted the call. Half-past two in the morning?

"Serena, what are you doing up?"

Serena's voice came through crackly and breathless, as if she was moving, and slightly slurred. "_Mom told me I have to do thirty laps around the block every night if I want to make it to Worlds_."

_Shit_. She clamped her phone between her ear and shoulder, turning on the lamp and reaching for her clothes. "Where are you?"

"_I'm on Oak_," Serena panted. "_I just managed to cut across the park to call you - she's following me in the car, Kat_."

"Serena, run home, now," Kat told her sternly. "Did Mom refill her meds or did she just stop taking them when they ran out?"

"_I think there's a bottle in the bathroom_," Serena panted.

"You _think_? You're supposed to be checking she's taking them," Kat frowned.

"_She hasn't been like this in ages, we've had a really good time_."

"Oh, well, I'm so glad for you," Kat said sardonically, rolling her eyes, anger swelling inside her chest. Of course, Kat was Public Enemy Number One; she refused to coddle her mother or excuse Carol's lack of commitment to staying healthy for her daughters. They _constantly_ clashed - but Serena had always been a mommy's girl, Carol's champion, her favourite - because Kat had done her job, and protected Serena from the worst of Carol's disorder, so they _could_ have that kind of relationship, that bond that Carol had forfeited with Kat a very long time ago.

"_Would you just come?_" Serena panted.

"I'm at the college, you'll have to distract her until I can get there," Kat warned her. "You're getting too old not to deal with this yourself, Serena." When _she_ was sixteen, Kat was skating all day, doing whatever she could to earn some cash in the evenings, ensuring Carol took her lithium, cooking for Serena and preparing snacks and meals for the next day, helping eleven-year-old Serena with her home-schooling, as well as doing her own, cleaning the house, learning to drive and keeping it from everyone when Kat returned from summer training camp to find Carol having one of her worst episodes since Reggie had left. They'd had to invent an elderly uncle to explain away Carol's notable absence - people had never known she was gone not for two weeks, tidying up her dying uncle's affairs, but two months, voluntarily signing herself into a psychiatric hospital without a single thought of the repercussions for her underage daughters: Kat had kept her and Serena safe from do-gooders who would drop them in 'care' and never think of the lasting damage they had done by interfering. Kat had spent two months walking a tightrope, living in absolute terror of discovery - and loving the independence from Carol. She had kept Carol's secret: She had kept Serena safe.

Of course, Kat was such a good sister that Serena knew none of that - so Kat couldn't really blame her sister for being a spoiled brat reliant on her to clean up the messes Carol made…except, she could. She had left home knowing Serena would face a steep learning-curve when it came to Carol's disorder. Kat had had to take a step back, to actively distance herself from her mother.

But when Carol's disorder directly threatened Serena's safety?

"_I didn't think she'd get like this_."

"She always gets like this," Kat muttered, scanning the dark dorm-room for her tights. She'd driven over to the college in her skating costume and coat; her clothes were in her go-bag in the trunk of her car. She grabbed her costume from the floor and started tugging it on, stuffing her thong and bra into the pockets of her coat. "If you couldn't be bothered to check she was taking her meds, why did you wait 'til now to say anything?"

"_Like you'd care if I _had_ told you_," Serena wheezed.

"Fuck off, Serena," Kat swore, zipping up her coat and grabbing her purse. "Just - get Mom back to the house. And keep her keys away from her."

Carol wasn't particularly violent when she was having an episode - beyond the few, memorable slaps she had delivered Kat over the years - she was erratic and more aggressive, verbally abusive, unheeding of consequences, and joyous because of it; Carol felt like herself when she wasn't swimming through the lithium, and for a split-second, she would think she was fine, she was amazing, she could handle _anything_…until she couldn't. Carol's disorder was like a triple flip - like a Triple Axel…it was dizzying, awing, and you could never predict how much damage not sticking the landing would cause.

The trick was catching Carol before she fell - even better, before she attempted the jump. Learning her tells. Kat was fluent in Carol's physical tells; she knew the warning signs. After eighteen months without Kat at home, she had assumed - incorrectly - that Serena had started to pick up on them too: Perhaps she had, and just ignored them. For a raging bitch everywhere else in her life, Serena was…timid when it came to Carol's bipolar: She lacked Kat's experience, her resilience. Easier to capitulate to Carol rather than trigger something messy only Serena would remember to suffer the emotional backlash from. How often had Kat wished she could just ride out Carol's mania, because the damage of confronting her was so devastating, and harder on her than on Carol?

"What's going on?" a soft, male voice asked; she paused at the door, tucking her phone into her purse. Dave. He looked so cute, rumpled and sleepy, and their conversation earlier played through her head. London. His fellowship; her freedom… He'd asked her to really consider it, consider her answer. Consider moving thousands of miles away, so they could _live_…

And then Serena had called.

Kat knew her answer. She had known it as Dave was asking her, _No_!

Things had gotten heavier between them because…well, she'd had nowhere to sleep that week and his comforter was really warm; she hadn't minded the sex if it meant she could sleep on a comfortable mattress and not someone's too-short sofa or her car. She hadn't minded things going to a new level; because he was a kind, generous guy who didn't push for more than she was prepared to give, even the emotional stuff. He never pressed the issue…never pushed back. He was perfectly _nice_.

He deserved better than someone half-assed about their relationship.

So did she. Not that she thought he was; it just wasn't…what she wanted - or perhaps what she needed. _He_ wasn't what she needed.

She needed shock therapy, to even be considering giving up life in London with her doctor boyfriend so she could stay in Idaho and look after her spoiled bitch of a sister and their bipolar mother who would never appreciate it.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she approached the bed, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress as Dave struggled to sit up, blinking slowly and cringing away from the lamp. She sighed softly, memorising his features.

"I have to go," she said softly. "Family emergency."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I mean, it will be, I just have to take care of some things," Kat sighed. He didn't know the particulars, but maybe he'd guessed things weren't as picture-perfect as blonde, beautiful Carol Baker and her two pretty figure-skater daughters seemed to be; he'd seen the bruises where she had bitten into her arm for release. She'd started biting that fall, when she was sixteen, hiding everything from everyone, letting Serena take it out on her that Carol was gone for weeks at a time and her dad had disappointed her yet again by not showing through the summer to take her camping while Kat had been away at camp having an amazing time.

"You sure you're okay to drive, it's late," Dave murmured, already half-asleep. Kat smiled sadly to herself, realising what she had to do.

"I'm good," she told him; she'd wind the windows down and crank the stereo up all the way back to Hawkley - she always enjoyed that drive. It got her psyched up for a long shift or let her wind down after a long day. And she knew she'd get no sleep tonight. "Look, I won't - I can't… I can't go to London with you."

Dave woke himself a little, frowning at her. "Because of skating?" He knew how much of her life was controlled by her need to skate, her love for skating. How much it meant to her - to fail her test; to quit.

"Because of…Serena," she admitted, her phone-screen illuminating with a more recent selfie of them taken at Serena's favourite café. They'd shared mochas and sticky pecan buns - Kat's were better, though; not as stodgy. And she served hers warm with extra caramel - especially when Mom was at work and couldn't know to scold them for their carb-intake. Half the joy of baking for her sister was because it was illicit. Some people's contraband was cocaine; hers was triple-chocolate muffins.

"She's sixteen," Dave sighed. "She'll be going off to college soon."

"She won't," Kat said grimly, sighing heavily. "Especially not if I don't stick around. I wanna make sure she can keep her options open, you know? My mom… I can't just leave her."

"You're gonna say no to London so you can keep an eye on your sister who you don't live with, and who's nasty to you all the time?" Dave asked dubiously, waking up a little more. It was the closest she had ever heard him close to anger.

"She's that way for a reason," Kat said softly. Serena was a hideous bitch because Kat had walked out - the same thing Reggie had done, years ago. In her mind, Kat was just as bad. Leaving her with Carol, the way Reggie had left them. Only, Kat had protected her all those years; it was the last eighteen months Serena had had to really understand exactly what Kat had protected her from - what Reggie had left them to. She hadn't, before. She was just a kid; but Kat had decided it was time to peel the film from her eyes, to immerse her in their hideous reality - to force Serena to take accountability for things in her own life, even if she couldn't do anything about Carol's choices.

Not the way pit-bull Katarina could. One way or another, she'd get Carol back on her lithium. She always did. Because she didn't put up with Carol's behaviour - she knew what to expect, and after all this time, she'd seen it all; it didn't faze her, didn't scare her the way it used to. She was desensitised - and her tolerance had worn thin years ago. In refusing her lithium, Carol had ceded control, had ceded all parental responsibility, to Kat. There was no going back from that. She had betrayed Kat's trust too many times to ever go back, to ever build the kind of bond Carol had with Serena because Kat had been there to protect it.

"So…what… What happens now?" Dave frowned.

"What happens now is…I go help my sister and get on with things, and you get ready for your amazing life in London," Kat said regretfully. Truthfully, she was a little regretful; London was home to the Globe Theatre and the Royal Opera House, two places she would _love_ to see live performances. It was full of museums and culture and more opportunities she, a girl from a small snowbound Idaho mountain-town, could ever dream of.

It was a fool's dream to think she could ever get away from her family's history of mental illness.

"That's it?!" Dave blurted, sitting up properly, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Even if I left with you, I'd always be here," she said honestly. She leaned forward, and gave him a gentle kiss. "I'm sorry things can't be different." At the door, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. "You're gonna make an amazing doctor, I mean it."

She left the dorm and never looked back.

Kat cranked the stereo up, connected to her most obnoxious pop playlist, and didn't surprise herself by not crying all the way back to town. Some wounds took a little more time to feel than others. And she had other things on her mind: Getting home to clean up another one of Carol's messes.

Her ears ringing from the stereo, she parked behind her mother's car, steam still rising from the front of the car where the engine was cooling, snow whorling lazily around her face, clinging to her eyelashes as she headed to the front-door, her keys in her hand. It was a quarter after three and the windows were all illuminated, music pounding from the living-room. From the outside, the house looked almost perfect - small, but neat and tidy, a little dingy in the winter when the snow was so stark and blinding, but it was home. She had as many good memories about this house as bad: It was just that the horror of the bad memories now outweighed the good ones.

She let herself into the house. _Bon Jovi _blasted from the stereo, and her mom didn't hear her come in: She had her back to the door, dancing, laughing charismatically as Serena looked up from the armchair, holding her wrist, her eyes sparkling, her smile tremulous. It always hurt to see Carol like this: Free. Kat knew the cost of that delight, of those smiles, her laughter. Kat hung up her coat, glad to have changed into leggings and a sweater before driving back to town. Out of instinct, and muscle-memory, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail: Nothing for Carol to grab on to.

"Mom… Look who's here," Serena said, as she turned the dial on the stereo. Carol spun, and Kat knew immediately that Carol wasn't just having a manic episode; she was also drunk. Anyone who was unfamiliar with Carol's disorder wouldn't notice the difference. But she also noticed the debris littered around the living-room: The coffee-table laden with shot-glasses, crushed lime wedges, makeup and smaller shopping-bags, jewellery still in the packaging, nail-polish bottles and magazines, purses and gym-gear. Cardboard packaging littered the carpet, online deliveries torn open in a fervour. _Victoria's Secret_, _Morphe_, _Nike_ and _Scechers_, _ASOS_ and _Glossier_, _Levi's_, _Target_, _Ulta_, _Nordstrom_, _Apple_…

Carol had been on a spree.

Carol gasped, leaping forward to fling herself at Kat and wrap her arms around her, beaming. "My baby's home! Serena, your sister's home! Now we can _really_ party - you know, I taught your sister to drink. Don't let her fool you, Serena; Kat's a naughty little kitty when she wants to be."

Kat caught her sister's eye, then dropped her gaze to Serena's wrist.

"You've been drinking," she said softly to Carol.

"Uh-oh," Carol grinned, cooing mockingly to Serena in an exaggerated whisper, "The Fun Police are back, Serena, ssshh, _we're gonna get in trouble_!"

"Who were you drinking with, Mom?" she asked sternly. Half the bottle of tequila was gone. Serena shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet her eye when she said severely, "_Serena_?" She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "Un-_fucking_-believable."

"Hey, don't you dare use that language in front of me, I am your _mother_," Carol stammered, already raising another shot to her lips. "I didn't raise you to have a crotch-mouth."

"I'll take a lecture on my vocabulary from anyone who didn't spend the night getting my _sixteen_-_year_-_old_ sister drunk on tequila shots," Kat said sharply, scowling and taking the shot-glass from Carol, placing it down on the coffee-table and reaching to cap the tequila bottle.

"She's gotta learn sometime," Carol slurred, shrugging unconcernedly. "Don't want some asshole kid trying to get her drunk at a party and take advantage."

"Right. What's wrong with your wrist, Serena?" Kat asked her sister sternly. Serena couldn't meet her eye; she mumbled to the carpet. Carol migrated to the kitchen, where she clattered around; it looked like she had started baking and been distracted. A glass bowl of dough was rising on the countertop; junk-food and candy littered the butcher's block, with dim-sum takeout containers.

"I was doing push-ups…I think I sprained it," she admitted: Kat could tell by the glimmer in her eyes that she had helped Carol tidy away a healthy dose of the tequila.

"Was this before or after the tequila?" Kat asked, cupping Serena's chin in her hand so she would be forced to meet her eye. Serena mumbled, "After."

Kat inhaled sharply, shaking her head. She shouldn't be surprised. Carol went to the stereo to turn her favourite _Bon Jovi_ song up louder.

"Go and drink some _Gatorade_, make yourself some toast…" Kat said, and Serena nodded. _One thing at a time_, she thought. Remove Serena from the situation, then move on to dealing with Carol: It was Kat's way. Her strategy, tried and true. Serena retreated, relieved, to the kitchen, where she helped herself to the jug of purple _Gatorade_ in the refrigerator. Letting Kat do what Kat did: Fix everything. Kat looked around at the clutter; it looked like a boutique and a shipping depot had collided and had really messy little babies. "What is all this?"

"Gifts! I know you must be devastated about failing your test, honey - I got you some things to cheer you up!" Carol beamed, making Kat grunt with the force of her embrace as she hugged Kat tightly. She released Kat, who kept looking around the living-room as Carol scooped up things, thrusting them at Kat with a delighted, glazed smile. Earrings, satiny tops, expensive black mesh-insert yoga pants, admittedly gorgeous earrings, face-masks, lacy unlined bras Kat preferred if she had to wear any at all, lipsticks, eyelash curlers, dresses, eyeshadow palettes, new jeans, a skirt…

"Where did you buy all this, Mom?" she asked, her heart sinking. There was a reason Kat knew to the cent what was in her bank-account, and her wallet: She'd had to learn through watching Carol's hideous example to watch her money with such scrutiny Ebenezer Scrooge would build a shrine in her honour. _Especially_ after that time Carol had drained her account… She'd never asked how Carol found the money to repay her the next time she was back on her lithium and remembered vaguely what she had done to Kat - enough to remember and be guilt-stricken and horrified that she had stolen over fifteen-hundred dollars from her own daughter.

Carol had zero impulse-control when she was having an episode: Kat had learned to hide the cash and credit-cards when Carol was having an episode, and to squirrel away her own money, and ensure Carol had absolutely no access to any of her finances… Someone had to keep it together, for Serena's sake.

"We went to Boise today for some shopping!" Carol beamed. "I really wish you could've come with us, honey, we had so much fun - we had crab alfredo and bubble waffles stuffed to bursting with ice-cream and candies and mini-cupcakes! _And_ facials."

"Boise?" Kat glanced at Serena, who hovered over the toaster looking very small.

"And online," Carol chirped delightedly, loading Kat's arms with more things. "I got some great stuff! And such great deals, too! You don't like it? It's the wrong colour?" Her face fell as she watched Kat deposit everything on the sofa, neatly folding a very pretty rose-pink satin top with tiny straps and fluttery draped cold-shoulder sleeves, stacking several tubes of shimmer on top so they didn't roll underfoot - the last thing anyone needed was to trip and injure themselves.

"Mom, you can't afford all this," she said gently.

"Oh, it's on my credit-card, honey," Carol beamed, waving her hand carelessly.

Kat's heart sank again. "You're already three grand over your limit on one of your credit-cards, Mom; the other is maxed out."

"Well, I'll just get another," Carol shrugged.

Kat watched her mother carefully. "Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Hm? Oh, sure. I'll call in sick."

Kat sighed heavily. "Yeah, you will. You'll tell them you have the flu and won't be coming in for a few days. Serena, go and get Mom's pills - go take a shower, get an ice-pack for your wrist and go to bed." Serena glanced at her, and nodded, disappearing into the bathroom still holding her refilled glass of _Gatorade_. Kat turned to her mother, glaring. "I can't believe you got her drunk and then forced her run laps around the neighbourhood at _two a.m._ Do you know how dangerous that is? She could have been seriously hurt."

"She's _fine_," Carol sneered, and Kat knew they were in the danger-zone. "She's a lot tougher than _you_, one little fall and you can't even land a fucking Double Lutz." She was so used to the meanness now, Kat's resilience could endure anything. Serena reappeared, her lips parting at what Carol had said, and her brown eyes were warm and contrite and a little devastated as she handed Kat a small bottle of pills. She uncapped it, counted out Carol's dose, and fixed Carol with the stern look she had learned from other moms.

It should have been the other way around. It should have been Carol lecturing Kat on carelessness of finances, inappropriate behaviour, setting a bad example for her sister…but it wasn't. It was Kat, playing the parent.

"Serena's hurt, Mom. She won't be able to skate for days. So you're gonna take your lithium. I know you didn't mean for her to get hurt," Kat said gently, reasonably. Sternly. Off-kilter, Carol stumbled and bit her lips, blinking quickly at the pills in Kat's hand. She knew her mother's dosage. Carol bit her lip but took the pills. "Take them." Carol put the pills in her mouth. "Swallow." To make sure, Kat gripped her mother's jaw, prising her mouth open to check she wasn't cheeking them.

"Get your hands off me!" Just like that, Carol lashed out; she swatted Kat's hand away viciously, fury glinting in her eyes.

"You're going to bed," Kat said severely. "Do I have to put you in your pyjamas?"

"No! I'm the adult! _I'm_ the mom!" Carol exclaimed. She was rarely coherent when she was having one of her manic episodes, especially when that line had been crossed. It would take the lithium a few hours to kick in; she'd need several days to adjust to it. Her next words were the characteristic nastiness Kat was almost immune to by now: "I could've gone to the Olympics if I hadn't gotten pregnant with you. All I want is for Serena to do what I couldn't! She's not gonna end up like me, stuck with _you_!"

"I know," Kat said simply. As Serena shrank into her bedroom, shrouded in shadow, Kat guided her mother into her room. Carol started weeping; as soon as it started, it stopped, and she climbed into her pyjamas morosely.

Kat tucked her mother in. "I love you, honey," Carol sighed, as she sank into the mattress, calming down. The lithium didn't work this quickly: Kat had gotten the lithium in her just in time. After soaring to such great heights, the only way she could go now was down - the lithium would cushion the fall.

Kat sighed, and bent over her mother. "I love you, too," she said, kissing her mother's brow.

She loved her mother.

Kat didn't trust her at all.

She closed the door, crossing the hall to Serena's calm purple bedroom, where she was righting the bedding; Kat took a corner and helped neaten out the sheets and comforter, retrieving a cushion from the living-room to raise Serena's on, an icepack wrapped in a dishtowel soothing whatever damage had been done.

"Did Mom use your computer to order things online?"

"No, she used her phone," Serena sighed, nestling into bed, looking sleepy. All-day practice, her first drink and an impromptu pre-dawn training session would do that.

"Damnit," Kat sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"I'll have to comb through all the invoices to figure out what can be returned," she said softly, tucking the comforter over her sister, whose damp hair would look a riot in the morning.

"I think you should keep the stuff she got for you," Serena said sleepily.

"She'll only snatch it back tomorrow," Kat said, from experience. Until the lithium had really kicked in, and Carol had committed to her twice-daily medication routine again, Kat knew Carol was still going to be volatile.

"The moms keep saying your wardrobe is tired," Serena sighed, just a pair of dark warm eyes surrounded by floral sheets, hugging Rufus with her good arm. They kept trading off with him, Kat sneaking him into Serena's bag, Serena passing him to Kat through their intermediary Eddie, whom Kat tutored in math.

"They have too much time on their hands," Kat sniffed.

"At least they're talking about Natalie's fall, now," Serena sighed, her eyes sliding closed.

"They'll be dining out on that for weeks," Kat said hollowly. She vividly recalled the gossips when she returned to the rink for the first time after her fall. None of them had expected she would ever return to the ice - they had all hoped she wouldn't. They were nasty bitches who put Serena to shame: At least Serena had the excuse of youth. She remembered how they'd snickered and whispered about Kat and Justin just sitting and talking yesterday - by the end of the week, Carol would be accusing Kat of filming a porno in the foyer with Justin and half the junior hockey team. That was how Ice Whispers worked: It was like Chinese Whispers, only played by adults, and a hundred times more vicious and damaging.

"They're assholes," Serena sighed.

"Yeah."

"How long will Natalie be off the ice for?" Serena asked, and Kat glanced at her sister, remembering Dasha Federova earlier.

"I don't know; I heard she quit. I don't know if she quit pairs or quit skating, but… I guess Justin's down a partner," Kat sighed, turning to stretch out beside Serena, resting her head against the pillow lightly spritzed with lavender for restful sleep.

"Not for long," Serena tittered gently. "He won Nationals last year. Girls'll be clawing each other's eyes out to skate with Justin."

"Yeah…he's a hot commodity," Kat acknowledged. Male skaters were few and far between: Male _pair_ skaters were fought over viciously. Justin would have his pick of skaters.

"He is _hot_," Serena grinned, her eyes closed, snuggling up against Kat, who was fighting exhaustion. Finally, blessed sleep… Serena's clock said _04:09_. Kat groaned. She had to be at work in two hours' time, to help with breakfast-prep and her housekeeping shift.

"That boy is nothing but trouble," she murmured, thinking over what Dasha Federova had suggested; that Kat pair skate with Justin. _Her_? Start pair-skating at twenty-one - when female pair skaters were notorious for getting the most injuries across the ice-skating community, when pair skating required flips and lifts - the more complicated, the more daring the better.

And with _Justin_?

She'd watched Justin and Natalie practicing.

Hands ended up where they oughtn't be, and that was Justin being purely professional: They couldn't pair skate without having an intimate knowledge of each other's bodies, not with the flips and lifts. Just the thought of such intimate choreography made Kat a little breathless.

A little snore from Serena roused her from her reverie; she groaned, but dragged herself off the bed. She had to be at work soon: She couldn't leave the house looking like it had been burgled. So she did what she had trained herself to do over years, after many experiences just like and worse than this: She tidied up the mess.

She neatened Carol's hauls on the dining-table, folded up the plastic shopping-bags to reuse, recycled the cardboard boxes, tidied the kitchen, and turned the risen dough into sticky pecan buns while she put on a load of laundry, vacuumed the living-room and went through the receipts and invoices from Carol's spree.

Mentally calculating how much Carol had spent, how much more debt she was in, Kat glanced at the bottle of tequila. She took a tiny swig, capped the bottle and tucked it into the deep pocket of her coat, making sure there were no other bottles lying around the house: Alcohol didn't go well with lithium, and she didn't want to make it easy for Carol to hurt herself.

She should have called in sick; Marcus would be cool about it, Kat never abused her position or his friendship - she was _reliable_, a team-player who would cover anyone's shift, conscientious and hard-working, charming and polite. She had worked very hard to be seen to be that way, to be a model employee worth a pay-raise and the choice shifts where she earned better tips. But she couldn't. She was saving her money. If she took the morning off today, what happened the next time?

Because there would be a next time.

So, she did what she could: She showered, got herself fixed up and wearing the spare uniform she kept in her car. She folded the laundry, and pulled the sticky buns out of the oven as she dialled Mary-Ann's phone, telling her about the potentially sprained-wrist. She called Dr Parker for an appointment after her shift ended, and then she used her mother's phone to find the contact information for Serena's new coach, Mitch. She told a white lie, saying Serena had fallen while jogging last night; he offered to take Serena to the doctor's office for her appointment.

Kat let him.

And she asked to meet so they could discuss Serena's training.

She didn't like that he swatted her ass with his gloves - it was inappropriate. But she was more concerned that Carol had hurt Serena last night, pushing her so hard to get her above the rest of the competition, she risked Serena getting to the podium at all. Kat remembered those days.

Kat wanted to make sure Mitch would get Serena to the podium in one piece - healthy, and vibrant as Kat knew her sister was, in love with skating.

That no matter what, he had her best interests at heart.

Because Carol couldn't be trusted: And Kat…couldn't be close.

She always found a way, though.

Always.

* * *

**A.N.**: What do you think? Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed. The chapter title was inspired by the Lady Gaga song - I think it fits in a lot of ways!


	3. Humiliations Galore

**A.N.**: Thank you for all the love! I really appreciate the reviews!

* * *

**Falling**

_03_

_Humiliations Galore_

* * *

"Katarina Baker!" How she'd gotten through her morning-shifts without getting third-degree coffee burns or falling asleep as she changed the sheets, she didn't know. She guessed it had something to do with being twenty-one, and utterly used to overworking herself to the point of absolute mental exhaustion. Her fellow Lodge staff had been kind, and not drawn all over her face with Sharpie while she napped in the staff-room: Marcus had pencilled her in for the dinner shift, when the work was harder but the hours flew by faster and the tips were way better.

It figured the Davis family would appear now: As if Mr Davis could smell blood in the water. Waiting to pounce on her exhaustion. She wished she could claim it was all about her; they had a long-standing tradition of coming to Jimmy's to eat family-dinner once every week. Justin lived at the Lodge in one of his father's suites, and it was the one place he couldn't avoid the rest of his family. So, a weekly dinner with the family, and Kat usually ended up waiting on them. The tips were great. But she knew she looked like ass, after the night she'd had: it rankled that Justin would see her this strung-out while he looked relaxed and unflappable as always, his sandy blonde hair tousled just-so, watching her every move with lambent eyes as she hitched a smile into place and strode for the Davis' favourite table, ice-water and _iPad_ Mini at the ready to take orders - they'd digitised the system last year. It wasn't that she disliked Mr Davis personally - she remembered him from her childhood, more fun and open than the obnoxious businessman he now was, too accustomed to his own success to remember little things like humility, courtesy.

If she had to put her finger on it, she'd put James Davis' arrogance down to a defence mechanism, warding the world away to avoid the pain of loss: His wife, Justin's mother, had been a legit angel on earth. And she was gone. People looked at the new Mrs Davis and saw a trophy-wife: Kat knew Mandy Davis to be a force of nature, and a kind, stern, take-no-bullshit woman Kat respected, even admired. Through tutoring Reid, Kat had learned a lot from Mrs Davis just through observation.

"We heard you were working today. How are you doin', sweetheart?" Mr Davis asked, his personality filling the room. Justin sprawled in his seat beside his father, watching Kat closely, taking in the long line of her apron, hazel eyes shielded by lashes glowing golden in the candlelight. She remembered how pretty they were up close.

And was annoyed she remembered that; also, that he didn't even bother to hide that he was checking her out.

"I'm good, Mr Davis, thank you," Kat smiled, tucking the 'Reserved' plaque into her apron pocket and pouring water into Mrs Davis' glass seamlessly. "How are you, sir?"

"Oh, I'm good, honey -"

"Why do you always call him 'sir'?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, it's just Dad," Drew smiled contentedly.

"She's being respectful son," Mr Davis said. "You'd _all_ be wise to learn from her example." He shot Justin a speaking glance; his eldest son rolled his eyes, fiddling with his knife.

"Kat, hey, Kat! Kat! Check this out!" Aside from the braces glinting in the golden restaurant lighting, there was little to distinguish Reid Davis from his identical twin-brother Drew - nothing visible; it was their IQs that set them apart. They were both sweet dumbasses but Reid especially was not academically-inclined: They were decent kids, though, straightforward and kind-natured, and their antics made Kat smile.

"Hi, Reid," she said patiently, smiling warmly, filling Drew's glass before sidling up beside Reid, who was smoothing out a crumpled piece of paper on the tablecloth. "What've you got there?" Reid grinned as he handed Kat the paper. Scanning it, she realised, "You got a _B-minus_! _What_?!" Her jaw dropped, and she beamed as Reid grinned at her excitedly.

"I think he got Drew here to switch with him to take the test," Mr Davis teased, watching his twin-boys with a patient smile.

"Nuh-uh, they'd _know_ if we switched," Reid said, grimacing widely so they could all see his braces. Kat chuckled, grinning, and scanned the test, a thrill of delight coursing through her, giving her a hit of much-needed adrenaline to get her through her shift. A B-minus! God knew how hard she and Reid had worked to get him there. "See, you said I could do it!"

"I did, didn't I?" she smiled. She noted the few problems he'd hadn't completed, the ones he hadn't tried, and the ones he'd been given points for showing his method even though the answer was wrong. "Keep a hold of this and we'll go through it during our next session, okay?"

"Pass it here, honey; I'll keep it safe in my purse. Or it'll end up shredded in your hockey-bag just like your History essay," Mrs Davis said, flicking her elegant fingers at her stepson.

"Okay. But check it out - look at these ones. These questions, I remembered how to do 'em 'cause they're the ones you had me talk through and explain to Eddie. I _remembered_!" Reid grinned, proud of himself, and Kat saw Mrs Davis' indulgent, proud smile as she rested her delicately-pointed chin on her folded hands, the skating-rink diamond on her finger sparkling in the candlelight.

"That's amazing, Reid," she smiled proudly, turning to fill Mr Davis' water-glass as Drew stole Reid's test and passed it to his stepmother. "That means you're still eligible to play, right? So are you here celebrating tonight?"

"Absolutely," Mr Davis smiled.

"I will have a strawberry daiquiri, with a lot of rum," Reid grinned.

"I will work my magic and see if I can twist Marcus' arm into making you a cherry Coke," Kat smirked, and Reid's face fell.

"Aw. Oh - hey, I like those!" he grinned, and Kat laughed, shaking her head as Drew rolled his eyes.

"Drew, one for you?"

"A rootbeer, please, Kat," he said politely.

"You got it. Justin? You want your usual? Or we've got the new craft IPAs on draft now," Kat said, filling his glass. Justin tweaked an eyebrow interestedly, pulling a thoughtful face.

"I'll just have my usual," he sighed.

"Two fingers of whiskey and a beer to chase it down," Kat said, and he winked.

"I think I'll join him," Mr Davis said. "You know, I heard tell my bar staff enjoyed taste-testing those IPAs for consideration on the bar menu." Kat grinned.

"It was a very good night, Mr Davis, thank you," Kat said earnestly. A few weeks ago, Mr Davis had closed Jimmy's for the night - and still paid them for their shifts - to bring in a team of people who trained them in cocktail-making and wine-pairing. They'd also taste-tested the craft IPAs Mr Davis had been approached about stocking Jimmy's bar with by the brewer. All of the restaurant and bar staff, even the people who never came out of the kitchen, were invited to the event, treated to a three-course surf-and-turf dinner and training in a relaxed, social environment. The bar-staff had shortlisted the cocktails for the new winter specials menu, approved the IPAs, and the kitchen staff had written the winter menu to pair beautifully with the new South African wines they had started stocking - the Davises had gone to South Africa last year on vacation touring vineyards, leaving the twins in the shared custody of the less-than-enthusiastic Justin, and Kat, who had babysat the boys since she was sixteen, and who had served as _de facto_ housekeeper, cook, tutor and Responsible Adult for the twins while the Davis' staff enjoyed their own vacation time. "It's…nice to be appreciated, and involved, you know? We take a lot more pride in the restaurant knowing we had something to do with writing the menus."

"Well, I wish I could say it was my idea; stuff like that's all Mandy," Mr Davis beamed, gazing fondly at his wife. "She's brilliant."

"Well, thank you to both of you. I think we really benefited from the team-building," Kat said, who knew Mrs Davis had been behind the whole event; she had approached Kat about the idea while she had a tutor-session with Reid. Mandy was a people-person: She was _beloved_. She was the balm to the wounds Mr Davis often inflicted.

"And the bar's benefitin' from this new cocktail menu - look at this! They all sound delicious! Was the cocktail-making class fun?" Mrs Davis asked, examining the newly-printed menus, illustrated by some 'food-artist' from Boise. Whatever that was.

"A little too much," Kat admitted, and Mrs Davis giggled prettily.

"Well, it can only help; we've had nothing but positive feedback from the concierge about how guests are liking the restaurant," Mr Davis said. "Speaking of that, Kat: Are you planning on leaving?"

Kat jumped, flustered, instantly on her guard - did he know something she didn't about the staffing? She'd been an employee since she starting on the pot-wash in the kitchens at sixteen, moving on to housekeeping and waitressing at eighteen and only just last season promoted up to bar staff when she became legal. "Excuse me? Uh - no; I'm very grateful for my job, sir. I have a great manager at the moment," Kat stammered, caught off-guard.

"Dad," Justin warned, shooting his father a careful look as Mrs Davis fidgeted uncomfortably at the other end of the table.

"Huh. 'Cause I heard you're gonna be my son's new skating partner," Mr Davis said, ignoring his son and leaning back in his chair to watch Kat. Kat blinked, hiding a sigh of relief that she wasn't being laid off by the boss without any kind of indication by Marcus that there was any issue.

"Well, I'd like to know where you heard _that_ rumour," Kat said, smiling politely as she straightened her shoulders, regaining her bearings. He had rattled her. But she had worked in customer-service too long to let customers fluster her: Dealing with domineering assholes while maintaining her poise was one reason she was consistently tipped so well. People often ended up leaving any confrontation they picked with her feeling like the assholes they truly were, and tipped her apologetically.

Dealing with Carol had taught her a great many life-skills.

"Well, I heard it from Dasha. I trust her instincts about this pair-skating stuff," Mr Davis said nonchalantly, brushing off his son's passion and dedication to the sport with evident disdain - disdain that came from ignorance, a lack of understanding or appreciation. There was artistry in skating; Mr Davis thought hockey was the only ice-related sport worth getting riled up about - Kat knew, because he postponed her tutoring sessions with Reid if an _NHL_ game was on that day. Mr Davis didn't appreciate the enigma that was his eldest son. "Listen, I understand money's a little tight right now-" Kat glanced sharply at Justin, who cringed and caught her eye with a grimace of shame, "-so I'd like to help you out with that. Just think, instead of taking drink-orders from my guests, I'd be payin' you to do something you love… Either way, the money's coming from the same place."

The smile slipped from her face as heat flooded her, staining her skin; she could feel the flush of humiliation spreading from her chest to her face, her heartbeat rising as adrenaline crashed through her veins. She clenched her jaw, biting back her immediate response, focusing on Justin as he cringed. Compared to his father, Justin seemed like a sensitive guy. _Intuitive_, almost. Her hands shook as she raised her _iPad_ Mini, tapping the touchscreen to start keying in their orders.

"Thank you, that's um… Thank you, sir," Kat said, finding it difficult to speak around the humiliation and rage blurring her thoughts, aware of every pair of eyes on her, as the twins fidgeted, and Justin raised a hand to his brow, wincing. "That's certainly something to think about." Justin caught her eye, trying to convey too much in a single glance, as his father grinned.

"Let's give Kat some time to think, maybe?" Mrs Davis smiled sweetly, giving her husband a look.

"Okay, okay," he smiled generously, raising his hands in defeat - and completely ignored both his wife's subtle warning and Kat's body-language, which had to be screaming _FUCK OFF_ even with her smile hitched back in place. "Listen, I'm not trying to strong-arm you, it's just…you know, when my late wife first got Justin into figure-skating, I was a little worried he might turn into some kind of a fruitcake." Kat felt her body locking up, and her eyes lanced to Justin, who was squirming in horror and humiliation - at his dad's blatant disregard for anyone else's feelings, for bringing up Justin's dead mom as emotional leverage, and for his use of the derogatory phrase 'fruitcake' to describe some of the most disciplined, most talented athletes in the world, of which Justin was one. The twins smirked at each other. "But - you know, she saw something in him, and, turns out, she was right - my boy has an Olympic-size talent. Now, it's a real shame about Natalie, but I think it's past time we all acknowledge Justin needs a partner who can match that… Think it over."

"Oh, I certainly will," Kat smiled, shooting daggers at Justin as his father clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning easily: Only Justin seemed to understand the threat underlying her syrupy tone, watching her cautiously.

"Beautiful!" Mr Davis laughed brashly, clapping his hand together triumphantly. "You know what, we _should_ celebrate - Reid passed his test, and Justin's found himself a partner worthy of his talent! Let's have some champagne - why don't you bring us over a bottle of Mandy's favourite?"

"Of course," Kat smiled. "Before I go, can I order you any starters or do you need a couple minutes?"

"Let's just get a basket of those warm dinner-rolls with the herb butter," Mrs Davis smiled. "I think we'd all enjoy that."

"Sure," Kat said, forcing a smile. "I'll give you a few minutes to consider your dinner order. Today's dessert soufflé is roasted peach, served with amaretto caramel and homemade vanilla bean gelato. I have to get the order in with your entrées so the kitchen can prepare it, so just let me know if you'd like it."

"Ooh. Sounds _good_!" said Southern belle Mrs Davis. "They're really pulling out the stops with these seasonal soufflés."

"It's a signature dish," Kat smiled. "We've had people coming all the way from Boise for the soufflé, they've heard such good things about Jimmy's as a destination restaurant. I'll give you guys a few minutes to decide." She caught Justin's eye, giving him the dangerous, no-nonsense look she usually reserved for Carol. "Justin, you and I will talk later."

Justin shrank in his chair.

As she walked away, she heard Reid coo delightedly, "_You're in big trouble_."

"_Dude, you got The McGonagall_," Drew grimaced, and Kat retreated to the bar. Marcus saw her coming, already grimacing - either at the look on her face, or the fact that her face could probably cook the Tomahawk ribeye Mr Davis would inevitably order - not forgetting the horseradish crust, and sides of mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus.

"Uh-oh. Murder-face. Who're we puttin' the hit out on?" Marcus asked, already busy preparing the Davis' drinks order. Kat inhaled slowly, deeply; she counted to ten slowly, trying not to listen to the rush of blood pounding past her ears. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

_I understand money's a little tight right now_… Justin had told his _father_. As if that was the only reason a girl like Kat could have to refuse to skate with Justin - as if she could be _bought_. As if…as if her tutoring his son, and working in his hotel…gave him the right to treat her…like she was nothing more than _the_ _staff_. Like he hadn't known her since she was a baby; as if she and her sister hadn't shared bubble-baths with Justin and his brothers when they were babies and his mom was still alive to babysit them.

Kat had learned a lot from working at the restaurant: She believed that how people treated the staff revealed who they truly were.

She was exhausted, and last night had hit her hard: Just now had hit her harder - the humiliation of being treated…like she was _nothing_… Her entire body felt like there was too much inside it to contain; too much energy, too much anger and humiliation and hurt… Did he imagine… He had _no_ idea what her life was like, why her finances were stretched to the limit, why she slept in her car rather than go home, why she knew she was _lucky_ to work at the Lodge and to take drinks orders from _his_ guests.

Her eyes burned and she knew she was in danger of spontaneously combusting into tears. She was fucking exhausted. And all she wanted to do right now was wait for the earth to open up at her feet and swallow her. Except, she couldn't let that happen - couldn't let anyone else take her hard-earned tips.

"It's, um - it's nothing - I'm just… I just need to go grab a glass of water and, um, go out back and - _scream_," Kat sniffed, half-joking, as she press the heel of her hand to her eyes to stop them burning, her hands still shaking.

"Go take a minute. And after our shift you're coming over to mine, and you're gonna tell me what the hell is going on over a beer."

"Sure. I may fall asleep in my beer," she warned.

"Fine, happy to have you drooling and snoring on my couch if it means I won't find you in the lot in the morning, sleeping in your car," Marcus said sternly: He had offered her couch-space several times before now, but he four roommates with vibrant social-lives and it wasn't fair to them. Something moved in her periphery, making the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickle - she jumped out of her skin as someone touched her back.

"_Jesus_!"

"Justin," he corrected, with his signature smirk, leaning casually against the bar with one hand resting low on her waist, a finger hooked casually through the ties of her apron.

"_Justin_," she snapped, glaring at him, and hissed through gritted teeth, "Hand. _Waist_. Off. _Now_."

"Okay..." He smiled charmingly, raising his hands innocently, though she instantly missed the weight against her lower-back, and had to forcibly ignore the shiver that stole through her, refusing to focus on what her body was telling her. "Listen, I -"

"I'm just about to come back with your drinks," Kat said gently, not meeting his eye, aware she was flushed and probably sweaty, her eye makeup likely smeared. "Did you want to change your drinks order?"

"Uh…" Justin gazed at her, reading her face, and whatever he was about to say died on his lips. "You know what, yeah - you mentioned the new craft IPAs. Figured I'd at least sample them before I go with my regular. Might even find a new favourite." His eyes were warm and contented as he gazed at her; Kat didn't read too much into the look on his face, his nearness - he was all but pressed against her, in spite of the open five feet of bar beside him.

"Sure," Kat smiled, but it was strained, and again she didn't meet his eye. "Marcus will look after you. Excuse me a moment." Taking a long, slow breath, she stole an ice-cube and shoved it in her mouth, focusing on nothing but the melting as she strode into the kitchen, tucked herself in a corner, and just _breathed_, settling herself down, letting her body calm down as she emptied her mind, counting backwards. It had been a while since any of the guests had gotten under her skin so quickly, so badly: She had developed strategies to handle asshole diners, diffusing most nasty situations before they could come to a head and get management involved.

But Mr Davis was the boss. She had to take it. Smile sweetly and say thank you as he humiliated her.

As soon as the ice-cube had melted, she took a deep breath, checked her makeup and pasted a smile on her face before heading back out into the restaurant: Marcus had her drinks orders ready for two of her tables, and she was kept so busy over the next couple hours that she could focus only on the adrenaline keeping her upright.

She was nearly knocked on her ass, though, stunned, when she opened Mr Davis' leather check sleeve - his bill signed to his open tab, settled every month - and a hefty wedge of bills fluttered onto the bar. Her tip. Mrs Davis was famous for religiously tipping at least twenty percent: And they'd had a _thousand_-dollar bottle of champagne tonight, let alone their five steak dinners with _all_ the sides, plus desserts and top-shelf Scotch for Justin and his dad…

Had it been any other night, Kat would've taken the cash and been on a giddy high the rest of the week; the Lodge hosted the rich and fabulous every season and a well-stocked bar meant very generous tips from people who thought nothing of throwing their money away. She didn't always wait on the Davis': But every time she did, she earned more in tips from them in a night than she sometimes did the rest of the week.

But tonight, Mr Davis had humiliated her: She couldn't help wonder if it was either Justin's or Mrs Davis' way of apologising for Mr Davis' behaviour toward her earlier, the hefty tip. To them, it was nothing, barely touching Justin's average spend on a night at the club: To her, it was…

Well, she didn't know whether to be grateful or insulted further, that someone had thought her wounded feelings could be healed by cash. A _lot_ of it - but…still…

* * *

She caught Mrs Davis coming back from the powder-room. Kat had always admired how elegant the younger Mrs Davis was, always put together with her curls shining with health, her makeup natural-looking and minimal, wearing soft nudes, blush-pinks and camel colours, gold hoops glinting at her ears. She also appreciated that in spite of appearances, Mrs Davis was no trophy-wife, nor was she anyone's fool - and she was definitely not a kept-woman: Mrs Davis was a force to be reckoned with and only a woman like her could put up with a man like her husband.

"Mrs Davis?" Kat said, wishing she didn't blush so fiercely when she was under pressure, as she approached the older woman with her glinting blonde hair and perfect smile. Kat offered her the wedge of cash she had found tucked into the wallet. "I can't accept this."

Mrs Davis' hesitant expression melted into a warm smile. "Sure you can, honey." Kat flushed.

"It's too much, I can't take it," Kat pressed, not quite meeting Mrs Davis' eye. Getting paid weekly to tutor Reid was one thing; this was quite another.

"Think we have family-dinner here every week and don't pay attention to what's going on?" Mrs Davis said, giving her a knowing smile. "You more'n earned that tonight, I saw. Practically running the restaurant yourself, I saw you intervene with that other waitress. Defused the whole situation before it could turn ugly and ruin everyone's night."

"I mean - but - but it cost the restaurant," Kat stammered. With Marcus running interference with an inebriated, entitled customer at the bar who habitually made a mess, Kat had had to take initiative and intervene with Caitlyn's table on his behalf, writing off the customers' entire meal because of the wait and the mix-ups with their entrées, and offering their next meal on the house with a bottle of champagne in apology for the poor service they had received. Kat had long ago lost patience with Caitlyn, as had most of the other staff: Instead of thanking Kat for getting involved to defuse the situation, she would blame _Kat_ for a loss of tips.

"One bad review can sink a business," Mrs Davis said sagely. "You made those guests feel like they were heard, and you made sure they'd come back and experience the restaurant at its best. It may be they remember you when they consider where to vacation next season. That's worth their steak dinner…it's worth that tip you earned…"

"It's still too mu-"

"Darlin', I'm not taking a cent of that money back!" Mrs Davis warned sternly, her eyes glinting. "In fact, every time you protest I'll add another fifty bucks to your next tip." Kat's lips parted, her cheeks flushing, but she held her tongue, stunned. Mrs Davis giggled softly. Her face softened, and she became sombre. "More'n that, sweetheart, I'd like to apologise for my husband." Kat caught Mrs Davis' eye, flushing again. "He put you on the spot and I saw your face…you would've been within your rights to take a swing at him."

"It's - um - I don't…"

"It's okay, sweetheart, I live with the man, I'd've killed him by now if I didn't love him so much!" Mrs Davis smiled. She winced. "He embarrassed you, and he was unprofessional in ambushin' you about skatin' with Justin while you were working, unprepared for any kind of conversation."

Kat nodded slowly. It was funny that Mrs Davis had tipped her so well for being succinct and making their guests feel heard, valued, that their feelings were understood, appreciated, and someone wanted to help: Mrs Davis…was doing the same thing with her. Making sure she understood that someone had seen, and empathised. Quietly, she said, "Thank you."

Mrs Davis smiled. "You've known the family long enough to know Justin is a god-damn pain in the ass, and I would wish him on no woman!" she declared, making Kat smirk. Mrs Davis sighed. "I also know that he is the real deal. That boy has a gift - and from what I hear, you do, too." Kat raised her eyebrows questioningly. Mrs Davis smiled confidentially. "Justin…all he's wanted for years is to pair with a girl who skates like you. I've been watching you for years every time you share the ice with Justin: I don't have to be an expert like Dasha to know you have something _extraordinary_. Your creativity, your expression…watching you skate is everything Justin loves about the sport… My husband's a hard sell…but if you and Justin do decide you want to skate together, just know…you've got an ally in me, even if Justin would rather I wasn't."

Kat gazed at her, flushing, and nodded. "Thank you."

Mrs Davis smiled. "Alright…I'd better get back in there before James starts to wonder what's taking me so long in the powder-room."

"They're talking hockey-stats," Kat smiled, and Mrs Davis rolled her eyes, "You're good for a while yet before they notice you're gone."

Mrs Davis laughed softly, gazing fondly at her family, the three sons she had inherited through tragedy. Justin had been fourteen, the twins barely six when their mother was killed by a drunk-driver: Mandy had taken on a widower with three young sons, one of whom wasn't the easiest to love at the best of times, Kat imagined - Justin remembered his mother, and the hole she had left behind; his brothers didn't - and Kat knew that upset Justin more than almost anything. Kat admired Mrs Davis, feminine and canny and _strong_.

"You have a good night, Kat," Mrs Davis smiled.

"Thank you. You too," she said politely, the wedge of money still burning her palm; but at least she no longer felt like she was burning with shame. So the Davises had noticed her resolve the issue with Caitlyn: It was for that she had earned her tips.

She couldn't help wonder if maybe she had shown management material tonight, without even thinking about the implications. She had acted on instinct, after spending years watching people she respected do the same thing… Maybe…

Kat couldn't keep skating: She also couldn't keep sleeping in her car the rest of her life. A majority of the staff at the Lodge were seasonal: Like Marcus, a lot of people arrived just before the snows to work so they could hit the slopes on their days off. But the Lodge also needed permanent staff to keep the place running at the high standards Mr and Mrs Davis expected of their luxury destination hotel, in spite of high seasonal staff turnover. Maybe Kat wouldn't be an Olympic skater: But why couldn't she be proud to work toward a management position at a reputable resort like Pinecrest Lodge?

And Mrs Davis had noticed her tonight - not just for her husband humiliating Kat, but because of how Kat's professionalism. And she knew she would get a reference from Marcus…

"Hey," Marcus said tentatively, when she'd caught up with him in the staffroom, punching their time-cards, and Kat glanced up at him through her lashes, on her guard. She wasn't stupid: She knew Marcus had a thing for her, he'd asked her out before. As great a guy as Marcus was…she liked the degree of separation: She didn't want to draw him into her world, all too content to have a wonderful friend. He was too decent a person to drag through the mud as she slogged after Carol, stumbling half-blind while she struggled to carry Serena on her back.

"Uh-oh."

"No 'uh-oh'… I'm not gonna ask you to take on someone else's shift again, not this week - you've officially done too much overtime, it'd actually be illegal for me to let you put your apron back on," Marcus said, and Kat smiled. "The guys are goin' night-skiing. Asked me to join 'em."

"That's like the tenth time this month!" Kat said wonderingly. She had heard Marcus was an insane skier - not that she knew the slightest thing about the sport beyond Jenn practicing her spiel about new equipment at her dad's store - and the local team seemed to be keeping a sharp eye on Marcus' talent. "I'd hope they're not just flirting: Are they ever gonna ask you to go steady?"

"Maybe," Marcus shrugged unconcernedly, a twinkle in his eye, amused by her turn-of-phrase. "Look, I put up with these rich-ass people to pay for my ski-passes. Keep things simple. Whatever you're doing seems complicated."

"Less complicated since approximately three o'clock this morning. Our beer can wait," Kat smiled, feeling a pang in her chest, the first time she had thought about Dave since slipping out of his dorm, their breakup nothing but a hazy memory buried beneath sleep-deprivation. "We all need to keep doing the things that keep us sane, right? What's it all for, otherwise?"

"Damned if I know," Marcus smiled genially. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, just… Yeah, it's fine," Kat smiled reassuringly. "Suffice it to say the situation has been defused…"

"Speaking of…saw you saving Caitlyn's ass again," Marcus said. "Free meal tonight and tomorrow, and a bottle of champagne?"

"I know it wasn't my place to make the decision but -"

"No, you made the right call. Manager's job's to make sure the place runs itself when I leave, right?" Marcus said, and Kat shrugged noncommittally.

"Speaking of that…could we talk…about…training?" Kat asked tentatively, and Marcus raised his eyebrows. There was no harm in asking, after all. Even if it wasn't the right time, she could sow the seeds: Get things lined up. It couldn't hurt to…to have her options open.

"I mean…sure," he said slowly, gazing at her bemusedly.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"You know it," Marcus smiled, and they parted ways.

"Don't get caught in an avalanche," Kat warned, as Marcus grinned, shaking his head, as he walked backward away from her, still smiling, and reminding her too much of Justin the other day, after Natalie's fall. Her smile became uncomfortable, reminded that Marcus wanted more from her than she wanted to give, but was too decent to act on what he wanted - he was a good friend. She needed a good friend - someone who had nothing to do with skating.

Trying to leave skating was like…trying to leave a gang. She needed allies on the outside to help her do it.

* * *

**A.N.**: So…Kat exhibited great mental maths skills in the series - I like to imagine she's very clever, but she was let down by her home-schooling, by Carol's single-minded focus on skating.


	4. Tequila

**A.N.**: So, the show has been cancelled. To quote Jenn Yu, "WHAT THE FUCK?"

Suffice it to say you can all live vicariously through this fanfic! I will be.

* * *

**Falling**

_04_

_Tequila_

* * *

Her brother answered the door. Kat smiled. "Can Jenn come out and play?"

"Is that my best-friend?" called a familiar voice. "I forgot what she looks like, I'm not sure!"

"It's me, you ass!" Kat called back, and Jenn appeared, grinning, her hair sloppily knotted, looking sweaty but happy and only a little bit pained, fresh from the Arena. She had texted Kat to come over after her shift ended, and she met Kat with a hug.

"I heard you failed," Jenn said, by way of greeting, with a compassionate grimace. She knew how important it was for Kat's future that she be able to coach: It was the one thing that came to Kat naturally, but something she had also had to work on every day since she first tentatively stepped out on the ice at two years old.

"Yeah. That's that," Kat said, smiling as if she wasn't completely devastated. Everything had gone wrong from the moment she fell. Her skating; the last vestiges of hope and trust she had in her mother, and the knock-on effect that had in her life, and her relationship with Serena. With everyone - if you weren't for Carol Baker, you were against her: Kat had become the enemy. And because Carol was one of the Ice Queens, everyone followed suit in turning Kat into a pariah against her will. Fuck them. They had no clue.

Not even Jenn did. Not really. All Jenn knew was what she had observed with her own eyes, in Jenn's own words that Carol was a cunt, and Kat had finally called it quits. Kat hadn't had to explain any more than that: Those had been Jenn's words. She knew how viciously passive-aggressive Carol was on her better days; how vitriolic and blatantly abusive on her worst, on the days when Kat _knew_ she hadn't taken her lithium and was teetering on the tightrope, about to fall.

Sometimes she wondered whether telling Jenn might be cathartic, a relief - to stop concealing Carol's secret, when the only person to ever benefit from it had been _Carol_… Certainly not Kat.

Keeping her secret, though, Kat's _loyalty_, had been ingrained since childhood. And it would only hurt Serena to blab. Because as long as Serena was underage, Carol decided who had access to her daughter - and she had done her utmost since Kat moved out to keep her interaction with Serena to a bare minimum, only because they saw each other every day at the rink and it was unavoidable, when they'd locked themselves in a bathroom stall if they were that desperate to talk.

"I also heard a rumour you have the day off tomorrow," Jenn beamed, sure sign of trouble to come.

"I heard that rumour. Also heard another…about you."

"Me?" Jenn smirked. "Did it have anything to do with me partying it up with my best-friend tonight?"

"There may have been a hint of debauchery in the air," Kat smirked.

"Come upstairs. My parents are out tonight - date night; Mom's found a new dim-sum restaurant she's _obsessed_ with. And Tom's gonna get the hell out of here so we have the place to ourselves!" Jenn called pointedly, guiding Kat to the stairs, as Jenn's brother waved a hand, smiling genially, and disappeared into the bowels of the Yus' extensive home. Like Kat's childhood bedroom, Jenn's still exhibited the paraphernalia of a lifetime of climbing the podium at skating competitions: Trophies, ribbons, medals, framed photographs, a preserved rose. Mementos of their triumph, a museum dedicated to their struggle and their sacrifice.

Glistening trash-bags looked incongruous at the foot of Jenn's bed, in her meticulously neat bedroom. "What's all this crap?" Kat gestured to the trash-bags.

"Yours, apparently," Jenn grumbled, and Kat reached to lift one of the bulky, heavy bags, surprised. "That bitch Serena offloaded it all on me at the rink today. Don't know why, _UPS_ brown is not my colour."

"That's my sister you're talking about, whom I love," Kat warned, though not with any real fire; she wasn't blind to the more toxic aspects of Serena's personality. She had learned too well from Carol how to keep her claws sharpened.

"Yeah…and your sister's a bitch," Jenn said plainly, and Kat smirked. "What is all this?"

"Carol took Serena on a shopping-spree in Boise," Kat sighed; Jenn winced as she lifted a trash-bag onto the bed, and Kat noticed. Ever since her fall, Jenn had been concealing just how hurt she truly was - and who was Kat to coax her into resting, when not even a head contusion had stopped her from skating?

"So…she gets a shopping spree _and_ a former Olympian training her…and you're living out of trash-bags?" Jenn said, glancing at Kat.

"Yeah, that about sums it up… Whatever," Kat sighed, shaking her head. She exchanged a look with Jenn, and they tore into the bags to see Kat's haul, poring over the gym-gear and clothes, the accessories and jewellery Carol had splurged on without any thought to the consequences. They both knew Kat didn't indulge at the mall - in fact, Kat loved getting dressed up but hated shopping. They went through the clothes, pretty things that would suit Kat but which she would never treat herself to, a velvet jumpsuit with a deep V neck; gorgeous new dark-wash skinny-jeans; a deep off-the-shoulder black long-sleeved top; an amazing concho belt; and a charcoal cashmere sweater, to name but a few things. Rose and pale-copper, ice-blue and lilac had snuck in amongst the charcoal and black, a leopard-print skirt and a matte-gold patterned black backless sundress to break the monochrome. "I told her to return all this."

"Yeah, Serena mentioned you'd probably say that," Jenn smirked. "She also said for me to tell you not to look a gift-card in the mouth. Also, she's shredded receipts."

"For fuck's sake…" Kat sighed heavily, shaking her head. If it couldn't be returned, and she wasn't going to let Carol get into a position she could trash everything…she may as well just accept the refresh to her wardrobe. Jenn delightedly helped comb through the makeup haul. There were a bunch of face-masks, _Morphe_ brushes, _ColourPop_ 'Lippie Stix', foundation, concealer and an assortment of shadows that were all very Kat's aesthetic, _Glossier_ eye shimmer, a _Lime Crime_ 'Venus XL 2' palette Kat had low-key been coveting from afar, and a _Jeffree Star Cosmetics_ highlighter - the be-all-and-end-all of highlighters - in 'Snowglobe' and a liquid lipstick, called 'Hi, How Are Ya?' that was the most glorious deep blood-red flecked with almost invisible shimmer. Kat had to admit, her mom had good taste when it came to buying makeup - she knew _Kat's_ taste. In spite of everything, Carol did know her daughter - enough to know Kat preferred nail-polish in dark blues and near-black purples and cherry-reds; nude matte shadows for work; tonnes of mascara for a night out with snatched foundation and a bold lip, either oxblood, deep orchid purple or rich Bordeaux; balancing out prettiness with edgy - a feminine top and a grungy eye, or leather leggings and tall boots with soft neutral eyes, 'glass skin' and tousled curls. Gold earrings, always. Jenn smiled gleefully, already swatching the _ColourPop_ shadows - _Envy_, _Krinkle_, _Shameless_, _Summer Lovin'_, _Lala_, _Kathleen Lights_, _Cornelious_, _Blaze_, _Nillionaire_ and possibly her favourite, _Porter_, _So Quiche_, _Rex_ and _Here Kitty Kitty_ \- and setting them in place in an empty, magnetised palette Jenn had found in one of the other bags.

"If I'd known Carol was gonna have a crisis of conscience and update your sad, sad…_sad_ little party wardrobe," Jenn smirked, lifting the satiny rose-gold top Kat had seen the other night, "I wouldn't have treated you when I was bingeing online for the new party season."

"What?" Kat blinked, instantly on her guard: She hated being surprised with 'treats'. Jenn knew it was difficult for her to reciprocate, and though Jenn always brushed it off, Kat never wanted her to feel like their friendship was conditional - or, heaven forbid, taken for granted. Kat knew she was very lucky in her friends. When her family had let her down, they were all she had left.

Jenn smiled knowingly, and reached into her large purse, bringing out something insubstantial, black, sheer and delicately embroidered with sinuous leaves and vines. She thought she saw a hint of sinuous - meaning _frail_, and liable to cause wardrobe malfunctions - chain straps, and tiny bows. She unfolded the cropped lingerie-style top, which was naughty and deliciously tempting and less than Kat would ever wear unless strong-armed by her vibrant best-friend. Kat's jaw dropped, and Jenn's laugh tinkled around the living-room: Half the reason Jenn had bought the top was for Kat's reaction, she knew. "I saw this and thought it was gonna be the best neckline in the world for you… It's spectacular. My taste is insanely good." She beamed at Kat's discomfort.

"Okay, uh, I am not a Hadid," she said, deadpan, and Jenn scoffed: Jenn _loved_ providing a scathing commentary for every new _Kardashians_ episode. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Kat, your whole body is snatched, okay, _own it_. Besides, now that you're quitting skating you're just gonna let yourself go," Jenn said, her eyes twinkling. "Might as well document the best days of your life. In style. With a lot of cocktails."

"Okay, ouch," Kat grumbled, cringing where she sat at the thought of going out in that top. But…maybe without the pressures of skating…she could bare her arms without being afraid people would ask about the fading bruising…

"Come on…don't tell me you couldn't use a night out dancing with your best friend?" Jenn grinned.

"You know what, actually, that is _exactly_ what I need," Kat admitted, on a huge sigh. It had been a long time since she had been able to let loose. And it had been a long week.

"Have you eaten?" Jenn asked, bringing out her phone to start ordering dinner. "I'm thinking PineCrust Pizza."

"Is there anything better than carbs and melty, melty cheese?" Kat sighed lustily.

"I can think of one thing I'd wrap my tongue around," Jenn said, popping her tongue in her cheek suggestively.

"Ugh, _Jenn_!" Kat grimaced.

"You always give such great squirm. If I didn't know you love sex so much I'd say you were a prude," Jenn snorted, and Kat chucked a decorative pillow at her. "Speaking of which, are we texting Dave to join us?" Jenn gave her a careful look. Jenn was a natural extrovert, and a fiery one at that: She thought two introverts such as Kat and Dave were mismatched. _Divine cockup_, were her actual words: She wanted Kat to find someone who pulled her out of her own head, kicking and screaming. Literally. She said Kat was due an explosive, messy, catastrophic meltdown that rocked Sun Valley to its core.

Kat sighed. She hadn't seen Jenn in days - side-effects of quitting skating already settling in and making her anxious. "No, we're…we're not texting Dave… He's moving to England."

"He's - what?! Since when?" Jenn blurted.

"Since…probably, like, _tomorrow_ or something, I think he had already booked his flight. He got a fellowship in London," Kat explained. Jenn's eyes narrowed.

"So…you're _not_ going with him?"

"He asked. I said no," Kat admitted, shaking out the last few bits from one of the ruined trash-bags to throw it away. A last _ColourPop_ eyeshadow thudded ono the rug, and a lipstick rolled under Jenn's armoire. Jenn stared at her; Kat ignored her to climb onto the carpet, sweeping up the lipstick. To avoid eye-contact with Jenn, she examined the lipstick's name - 'Dopey'. _Figures_, she thought: Even choosing makeup for her daughter, Carol managed to maintain her passive-aggressive attitude toward her eldest.

"So you're…_single_…and…on the rebound?" Jenn asked, a light glinting in her eye that Kat knew too well.

"I'm newly-single, and _homeless_," Kat reminded her warningly, bringing out the bottle of tequila she had swiped from Carol, and Jenn's eyes widened in delight. She might invest in Jenn's Christmas present and buy her portable shot-glasses so she was always prepared: Marcus now had Jenn's order ready before she even reached the bar. Kat had noticed her drinking more than usual in the months since her fall: Jenn had always been a party-girl, loving the holiday season and the nightlife it created among the rich and beautiful seasonal residents. They were townies: As Jenn saw it, the seasonal visitors were the best to use - and to discard afterward. But Jenn had been drinking more and more, and Kat worried. "I don't need dick so much as I need to _dance_. I just wanna have _fun_."

"Well, I am here to make dreams come true," Jenn smirked. Her smile faded. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you'd broken up with Dave."

"I just told you," Kat said softly. Jenn sighed, turning to her phone to _Deliveroo_ their pizza. "Hey, order some of that creamy mushroom and spinach dip. We're not heading out 'til late, I'm assuming?"

"With all this makeup to play with?!" Jenn smiled warmly, gasping as she opened the last _ColourPop_ shadow. "We should do masks and makeovers. Ooh - could you make that chocolate cake dessert you do? The oozy, gooey one? Pretty sure we have everything in the kitchen. Might as well go whole-hog if we're getting pizza."

"Sure," Kat smiled softly. Nothing started off a night out with Jenn like an oozy hot-fudge chocolate pudding cake served with vanilla ice-cream. It set them up for the night: Kat _hated_ hangovers. And she had learned quickly how to combat them. Eat a full meal beforehand: Stick to her preferred drink: Alternate with water: Give in to the urge to consume fried carbs when craved: And drink a tonne of water before going to bed - only _after_ removing her makeup.

"Also, we should do pedicures. Think about your toes. I am in _dire_ need of some spa-time," Jenn said, wiggling her toes, hidden beneath fluffy socks.

"I'm still not over the scathing look I got the last time I went and got a pedicure," Kat said.

"Judgy bitches," Jenn sniffed. "Check out this shade - it is _gorgeous_. This, on top of the _Jeffree Star_ highlighter, bitches be _blinded_ out in the International Space Centre!"

"Pretty," Kat smiled. "What's it called?"

"'I 3 This'," Jenn read out. "So gorgeous. Pizza's on its way! Do you need to shower? I'm gonna shower. Did you bring your curling-iron, with the interchangeable barrels?"

"In my car, with all my other stuff," Kat said.

"You're wearing this top tonight. Go get the rest of your outfit out of your sad little car while I shower," Jenn ordered, and Kat obeyed, after organising Carol's haul into piles, carrying everything out to her car except the makeup and face-masks so they could play.

It was what she needed - it seemed, what they _both_ needed: At Kat's insistence, Jenn sprawled on the bed with her leg elevated on cushions, meticulously giving each other mani-pedis, and assaulting the chocolate-cake dessert Kat had prepared and shoved in the oven before Jenn was even done in the bathroom. They listening to fiery music, getting them pumped up for dancing, and enjoyed zingy grapefruit peel-off masks, relaxing with slices of cucumber on their eyes, assaulting the chocolate-cake dessert straight out of the oven-dish, piecing together their outfits and gossiping about skaters they knew.

"Justin still has no partner," Jenn informed her.

"Regionals is three months away," Kat said fairly, "he has time. All the girls desperate to skate with him, he's probably playing the field."

"Talented, hot and rich. God, I wish he'd wise up and fuck me."

"You're such a romantic, Jenn," Kat smirked. Jenn had been thirsting after Justin for the better part of the last six months. As Kat understood it, they ran in a lot of the same circles and partied together. And she wasn't entirely sure whether Jenn was legit about lusting after Justin, or whether, as one of the few girls Justin _hadn't_ slept with, the seemingly confident Jenn felt a little bit…lacking, that he _hadn't_ ever hit on her. Was it because she wanted Justin; or to prove to herself that she could get him? Kat didn't know: Either way, she had never told a soul about her night with Justin, and, because the rumour-mill hadn't churned her up and spit out the dregs that survived, Justin hadn't admitted to it either. Kat still didn't know what to make of that. "I'm surprised _you've_ not approached Justin about skating."

"Pair-skating? I trust no man to throw me five feet in the air going twenty miles an hour! That shit's a death-wish," Jenn declared, and Kat chuckled.

"Bianca's available, I heard," Kat said thoughtfully, trying to remember the other pair-skaters she knew of - she had her extended social circle among skaters, girls and rare guys she hung out with around competition season, sometimes trained with, had in the past gone to training camps with. Their community was rather small; and they all tended to attend the same competitions - and date each other's exes. Bianca, she adored: They always met up when they could. "Oh, and Liz."

"Uh-uh. Ruptured hamstring."

"_Ouch_!" Kat grimaced sympathetically, and Jenn nodded, flinching.

"I mean, thinking on it, there are _very_ few amazing skaters - even decent ones - out there available to skate with Justin," Jenn said thoughtfully.

"People will hear Justin's free and Gillooly their daughters' partners," Kat snickered. "He won Regionals last year."

"Could've gone further if he hadn't been saddled with Natalie," Jenn sniffed.

"Well, that's my point," Kat said. "Justin _has_ _it_, you know, in a way that can't be taught… As much shtick as we give him, he works damn hard."

"Plays hard, too," Jenn grinned. "That's what we call a work-life balance. Speaking of - we should get ready. It's nearly midnight. We can head out soon. Go get pretty."

Jenn was right about the top - as always.

By the time Kat was ready to go - wearing her tried-and-true black high-waist skinny jeans and her new conch belt tucked tight around her waist, Jenn's most precarious strappy black heels, her hair pinned in a tousled bun with romantic curls flirting with her face, her makeup _snatched_, gold earrings glinting and drawing attention to her neck, she left the bathroom in a cloud of perfumed steam and Jenn turned, her jaw dropping. Kat had put on the top. It showed most of her midriff, her elegant shoulders and neck, and definitely, definitely was the best neckline to show off the curves of her breasts. The top looked delicate, the tiny bows holding the two sides together tempting, and drew attention to the vibrant gold chain she always wore, and the delicate sunburst embedded with a single tiny diamond. A gift from Carol on Kat's thirteenth birthday: Carol said Kat's father had given it to her - the one and only time she had ever mentioned the man who'd gotten Carol knocked up and ended her Olympic dreams.

"_Wow_. Okay, reconsidering going out with you tonight - I am on the hunt and _this_…" Jenn waved her hand up and down Kat's body: Kat smiled, flushed but pleased. She had looked in the mirror - she _did_ look good; and Jenn had done her makeup expertly, allowing Kat to touch up the details the way she liked so it didn't look too perfect.

"Speaking of mating dances…you sure you should be going out on that hip?" Kat asked, the one and only time she would bring it up.

"It's _fine_, Kat," Jenn protested.

"I know you're downplaying it to your parents but can you at least acknowledge to me how serious this is?" Kat said earnestly, double-checking her hair. "It's me you're talking to."

Jenn sighed heavily. "Okay…fine. So basically, the doctor said I need to get off my leg for at least three months to let my femur heal. Or I'll be having trouble walking."

Kat's lips parted, about to lecture Jenn on putting her future in jeopardy so she could pelt after the dream they had both held since they were nine years old… She sighed. "You know I'm the last person who'll lecture you about making a dumbass decision...after all, not even a contusion and potential brain-damage stopped _me_… Just…promise me you'll be careful?"

"Look, I can manage it, okay - _with tequila_," Jenn said passionately. "Hurry your ass up…quit primping! You look fine!" Jenn climbed off the sofa, rearranging her vibrant turquoise fur coat across her shoulders, partially concealing her cropped leatherette bustier from view. Jenn looked very pretty, with her lustrous black hair curled and her eyelids shimmering subtly with Kat's new _Glossier_ 'Lidstar' shimmer, killing an orangey-red lip. They paused in front of the mirror, as Kat pulled on a leather varsity bomber jacket, pushing the sleeves up to her elbows. They were both warmed from the full meal and copious amounts of tequila. They examined their reflections, and Jenn sighed as she looked Kat up and down again. "I hate you. I need to find me a dumb, fat friend, that is it."

Kat clicked her tongue. "Give me a month or two, I'll fill one of those criteria."

"I give you a month before you're back on that ice," Jenn said. She helped Kat carry Carol's haul to her car, tidying everything away into the various suitcases and backpacks Kat had amassed to hold her prized possessions. Graciously, Tom gave them a ride up to Pinecrest rather than let them pay out for _Lyft_ \- at least for the outgoing journey: They had to make their own way home - and if Jenn got lucky, that meant Kat was on her own.

And Jenn always got lucky.

Still…in the grand scheme of things, what was the cost of a night out compared to the emotional release that came from dancing with Jenn, enjoying a few drinks?

Warm from the tequila they'd shared over dinner, they held hands and giggled their way to the club, _Excelsior _\- Jenn's favourite - and were greeted by the host at coat-check: The music was already thumping, the vibe was vibrant and relaxed, and Kat raised her eyebrows at Jenn, stunned, a silent question, as they were guided to a plush velvet-upholstered booth with a 'Reserved' sign and a large tray set out with three different kinds of tequila and several different mixers, a cocktail shaker, ice-bucket, syrups, salt and lime wedges.

"Bottle-service?" she murmured concernedly to her friend, suddenly uncomfortable in spite of the tequila already running through her veins. "Who's paying for this?"

"Not you," Jenn smirked, and Kat raised an eyebrow.

"Ladies, can I start you off with some cocktails?" the host asked, and Kat glanced at Jenn.

"I think we could start off with the perfect Paloma," Jenn smiled warmly, and the host started to prepare their drinks. Jenn winked at Kat. "Figure we should get some vitamins in."

"Vitamins?"

"Grapefruit juice. It's practically a well-balance breakfast," Jenn smirked, and Kat chuckled.

"I don't think it works that way," she said. "D'you know what, could we get a couple Honey Bees instead, thank you?"

"Do you have a preference?" the host asked, and Kat smiled, her nail-polish glinting as she tapped her fingertip against the bottle of _Espolòn_ Reposado tequila. Vivacious Bianca had introduced her to _Espolòn_ tequilas last year. Some people had their favourite gins: Kat had found her favourite tequila early in life. The host mixed their drinks expertly, rinsing highball glasses with _mezcal_ first, finishing them with a dash of Angostura Bitters, garnishing the glasses with a twist of lemon peel.

"Just signal the bar when you're ready and I'll be right over to mix you another drink," the host said, and Jenn smiled warmly.

"Thank you," Kat smiled charmingly, and Jenn raised her glass as the host blended into the crowd of dancing patrons. Kat raised her glass, and Jenn smiled as she raised hers. "To…shattered dreams and healing femurs."

"I don't know," Jenn said thoughtfully, sipping her cocktail. She nodded approvingly. "I think the cosmos may have aligned just at the right moment for you."

"What do you mean?" Kat asked hedgily, eyeing her best-friend.

"Meaning, I'm not gonna sit by and let you quit something you _love_," Jenn said warningly.

"Jenn, I can't even pass my senior test."

"I don't think you should give it all up," Jenn protested. "You _love_ skating. It's who you are."

"Yeah, and I have to figure out who I am without it sooner or later. May as well be before I bankrupt myself trying to chase a pipe-dream," Kat admitted, licking her lips.

Jenn frowned, almost impatient as she said, "Don't throw away an opportunity."

Kat narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about _Justin_. All that talk earlier about Bianca and Liz - and _you're_ the one he wants to skate with," Jenn declared, and Kat's lips parted in exasperation.

"How the hell do you know about that?" she cried.

"Come on! I know everything that happens at that stupid rink! Way to bury the lead," Jenn said, shaking her head.

"The rink, huh…" Kat narrowed her eyes, setting her glass down, and her eyes lowered to the tray of bottles. How had she not realised? Bottle-service at _Excelsior_ cost upward of $200. Bottle-service, a private booth… She fixed Jenn with a look. "Is he here?"

"Who?" Jenn asked unconcernedly, primping her curls and signalling the bartender.

Kat ground her jaw, irritated. "Justin? He's paying for this, right? Is he here?"

"_Kat_."

It wasn't that he had gone to Jenn.

It was that Justin hadn't even had the courtesy to come to _her_.

Dasha, Mr Davis, Mandy…now Jenn, too.

"What happened to '_that shit's a death-wish_'? You won't trust a guy to throw you five feet in the air going twenty miles an hour, but you want _me_ \- who can't even land a jump anymore - to start pair-skating?" Kat said furiously, fidgeting as the bartender returned, putting a pause on their conversation while he mixed ginger-beer margaritas - antioxidants to boost their immune-system for the upcoming season, Jenn claimed.

When the bartender had departed with a handsome smile, Jenn launched back in: "You've always striven to be better. Not better than everyone else, but better than _you've_ ever been. You push yourself. I just think that…maybe pair-skating might be exactly what's going to push your skating to that next level."

"With Justin," Kat said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You know, he's not as big an asshole as everybody thinks," Jenn said defensively, and Kat narrowed her eyes as she glanced up at her best-friend.

"That is _not_ the issue," Kat said, with a bite. "I am _not_ like you, okay, my mother is not like your parents. I don't - I don't have the support you do, to even think about doing this. It's just me, now."

"I just don't want to see you make a decision you're going to regret."

"Like skating even though it may put you in a wheelchair?" Kat said sternly, setting her glass down. She had had enough to drink. "You know what, I'm…I'm done. I've had too much to drink. I'm done. Enjoy the bottle-service."

"You're not dancing?"

"Suddenly not in the mood," Kat snapped, shaking her head and gathering her things. She used to think Justin did his utmost to _not_ be like his dick of a dad: Turned out, he'd learned a little too much sat at his father's side at family-dinners.

He'd tried to use her best-friend and the bribe of bottle-service to convince Kat to skate with him - to hell with what might be best for Kat. He wanted what was going to be beneficial to him.

And it sucked that Kat had allowed him to ruin her night. She had needed it. She had _needed_ to let loose, to dance and have fun and live in the moment with her best-friend, and not have to think about skating or the shit-storm her life was. He'd taken that from her.

Worse, Jenn had helped him do it.

And she'd had no idea it was coming. She dreaded what she'd be missing in Serena's life, so far from the ice.

"Fine. I'm gonna go dance," Jenn said, with a bite, and Kat sighed as she slid out of the booth, heading for the exit, already opening the _Lyft_ app.

"Hey, Kat -" a voice called in the foyer, and Kat glanced over her shoulder, heart already spiking with irrational anger as the club lights gleamed off familiar soft golden-blonde hair.

* * *

**A.N.**: I can't believe they've cancelled the show. At least we can _imagine_ Kat and Justin became the Virtue and Moir of American ice-skating.


	5. The Space Between Them

**A.N.**: Thank you for all of the reviews! I really appreciate the love. Guys, guys, guys, there's another _Spinning Out_ fanfic on here!

I may change Gabe's age. Damnit, I want to see more of _Johnny Weir_ in Gabe's ice-performances - Leah's dragging him down!

Also, I did some research and Regional skating competitions occur in October, Sectionals in November and Nationals in January - Kat and Justin would've had to start skating together in July or early August if, as Jenn said, "Regionals are in three months". I know there's occasionally snow in July in mountainous regions, but the way they filmed it, it looked like they were already in the heart of winter. Confused.

So I'm changing Regionals to being six months away - in October - putting the story in about March/April time, which makes the snow reasonable.

* * *

**Falling**

_05_

_The Space Between Them_

* * *

She was right: He _had_ been at the club. Probably watching to see if Jenn made any progress.

"Justin, _not now_," she warned vehemently, striding away from the nightclub's entrance. A hand rested on her elbow, and she stumbled away, wrenching her arm out of his grip. _Damn heels_, she thought, cursing Jenn's four-inch-high strappy sandals. Perfect party footwear they were; in snow, they put her in danger of a broken ankle.

"Hey, why don't you quit pretending you hate me-?" Justin began easily.

"Justin, I really do not want to have this argument when I'm six tequilas deep!" Kat protested, glaring at him.

"What argument?" he asked, smiling genially.

Kat blinked at him. "You bribed my best-friend with bottle-service, you went behind my back to ask her to convince me to skate with you!" she blurted furiously. "What, you didn't get your fill of watching me being humiliated by your _dad_?"

Justin's lips parted. "I just thought you'd enjoy the bottle-service. You seem like you need a night out."

"Yeah, you know what, I _did_ need a night out, having fun, with my best-friend, not having to deal with all this _shit_," she cried, gesticulating. She knew she was too many cocktails deep for this. "You had no right to go to Jenn about this, use her to get to me! You fucked me about and I do not appreciate it. I needed my best-friend to support _me_ in this. _Me_. But, you know, congratulations - one bottle of tequila and Jenn's your champion. She thinks you're not an asshole; she doesn't know you sat there and just let your father _humiliate_ me."

"I didn't know - I didn't think he'd do that. Everything's a business-deal to him. All he understands is people agreeing to do what he wants because he has the money to make them," Justin said, his voice gentling - almost like an apology. _Almost_.

"You know, I have a lot of experience working at that restaurant, people talking down to me. I can let a lot just roll off my back," Kat told him; and it was true. Her resilience was epic. _Thank you, Carol_, she thought. She fixed Justin with a look, and hated that her throat burned and her voice broke as she said, "He made me feel…_small_…insignificant - as if we didn't grow up together, as if he didn't babysit me. As if I was nothing at all… And I am _not_ nothing."

Anger warmed her. She was just _not_ just the _help_.

"I know you're not…" Justin's breath plumed around them as he ducked his chin and sighed heavily, looking through his eyelashes at her. "Just - answer me one question: Why are you so dead set against skating with me?"

"You know the one person who _hasn't_ approached me about whether I'd genuinely consider skating with you?" Kat asked slowly, after a minute's silence, raising her eyebrows pointedly. "Dasha, your dad, Mandy, Jenn…all that effort…and you haven't even bothered to _ask me_."

"You want a formal proposal, on my knees asking you to pair with me?" Justin smirked playfully, but she thought she'd seen a flicker of embarrassment.

"Well, I don't appreciate the sarcasm but the idea has some appeal," Kat retorted.

"You want me on my knees again, huh?" Kat's eyes flew to his, and she was glad of the cover of darkness - her blush would've betrayed her. Hadn't she imagined that, so many times?

The most exquisite kiss she'd ever had…

"Justin…do you even _want_ to skate with me?" Kat asked, shoving those memories out of her mind - at least, to a secret compartment she could examine at her leisure. "Or was it Dasha's idea?"

"What does that matter?" Justin asked hedgily.

"It _matters_," Kat protested, frowning. "It matters. If this is just some _game_ or you actually _want_ to skate with me."

After a moment, Justin smiled softly. She hated when he did that; he was warm and charismatic and _cared_ more than he ever let on - he'd given her that look over and over that night they'd spent together. That look was why she'd slept with him…the first time - the second, because she'd know how insanely good the first time was… "Yes, I wanna skate with you."

Kat blinked away thoughts of the back of Justin's car, memories that still made her breathless. "_Why_?"

"Because, I think we'd pair well together, and unlike what everyone thinks…I actually care about skating," Justin said quietly. "And I want to win."

"You won Regionals with Natalie, Justin, you can skate with anyone you want," Kat protested, uncomfortable with the look in his eyes as he gazed at her…as if she was the furthest thing from insignificant. "You're gonna risk a winning streak that could get you to the Olympics?"

"Dasha says she can get you to Nationals in two years," Justin shrugged nonchalantly.

"I've never pair skated before," Kat reminded him, almost embarrassed to admit that she was a novice where he was swiftly becoming a nationally-ranked professional.

"Well, that's a lie," he smirked, clicking his tongue. Kat frowned, taken aback.

"What?" she breathed.

"Summer camp," Justin said pointedly, and Kat's lips parted.

"How do you even know about that?" she blurted.

"Small community," Justin smirked.

"That was - for _fun_, it was a fundraiser, and - it was a _long_ time ago," Kat blurted indignantly, but of course, he was right; she had pair-skated before, technically. She had spent the summer when she was sixteen at training camp, skating with a new friend who had convinced her to put on an exhibition at the end of the summer. But one four-minute dance she had enjoyed, to entertain a crowd, was very different to skating in competition, intent on the Olympics. "It was _before… _I can't even land a Double Lutz."

"Yes, you can," Justin corrected her sternly, holding her eye. Her lips parted, and his tone softened as he gazed at her through his lashes. "You can do anything."

"I used to think that," Kat sighed, shaking her head, walking away.

"You wanna know the truth? Why I want to skate with you?" Justin asked, easily keeping pace with her. He caught her arm gently, and she stopped, sighing. She was curious. It better not be anything to do with wanting to fuck her again. Justin gazed out over the illuminated slopes. "'Cause watching you on the ice is like…falling in love with skating all over again for the very first time, _every time_." She couldn't look away from his gaze; and her blush now was warmer and mellower than when he'd reminded her of their night together. _Flattered_. "And not even a head-injury could stop you getting back on the ice…but you're gonna let pride and money stop you?"

"That's not…" She sighed heavily, shaking her head. If they were truly doing this tonight, in the snow, after too much tequila, she might as well go for it. There was more than just one reason why she thought it was a bad idea - not just because Justin hadn't had the nerve to ask her to skate with him himself. "It's not my pride and your dad's money that has me thinking better of pairing with you, Justin."

"Then _what_?" Justin asked exasperatedly, as if he was genuinely concerned what was keeping her from pairing with him. Kat sighed heavily.

"Your dad looked at me and saw an Olympic gold medal draped around your neck, like I'd be this perfect Golden Ticket to get you where he wants you to be. I am not perfect, I'm not something you just pin onto your costume before you go out onto the ice, I'm… It's too important to me; but my head's all wrong…" she admitted. Justin opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand, and he kept quiet. Because she _had _been thinking about it. And she told him what really concerned her about pairing with him: "Say we start training, and you throw a fit or I can't stick the jumps, we don't - _I _don't make the progress your dad wants in the time he's willing to pay for…you'll get a new partner and I'd be…exactly where I am now, with no savings, lucky to even be waiting tables and changing sheets at the Lodge and just…unable to do the one thing that I love, after putting all that faith in it."

Quietly, Justin said, "You think I'd trade up just because you're struggling?"

_Struggling_, she thought. That was a pleasant word for it. She grimaced, almost feeling badly about saying, "Justin, you've had seven partners in the last five years."

"Yeah, but none of them were -" He broke off, looking almost embarrassed at his outburst, holding her eye. She wondered what he'd been about to say.

"It's not your dad's attitude, or even just _my_ head, really…it's your commitment," she said.

"Hey, the one thing I am committed to is skating."

"Yeah…but not your partner," Kat winced apologetically. Contrary to what people believed, and how she acted around him, she didn't think Justin was a colossal asshole. "Maybe I just wanna know you've got as much to lose as I do if everything goes to shit. We're not in the same position."

Justin frowned, and said, annoyed, "I'll never have as much to lose. I can't help that!"

"I know you can't. I don't blame you for it - God knows your dad has worked hard to get where he is so you can have everything you want…" Kat sighed, and her tone was unyielding when she continued, "But he'd fuck me over to make sure you got it. And I don't have to be okay with _that_."

For a minute, Justin couldn't respond. He tucked his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, staring over the frozen-over pond illuminated with twinkle lights. Gently, he said, finally, "We have the same things to _gain_ by working together. I've watched you skate for years…you're mesmerising…and I know you've watched me skating, too." His expression turned almost flirty, and Kat rolled her eyes. He had the finest ass out on the ice; and they spent _hours _training in the same space. She'd be branded a liar for trying to claim she didn't enjoy watching Justin skate. "Think what _wouldn't_ be possible if we worked together. It's important to me, too. I just want to skate with someone who loves it as much as I do."

Kat sighed, flicking her eyes over him, tension crackling between them as she chewed her tongue against breaking the atmosphere, but she couldn't help it - he made her flushed and uncomfortable in her own skin when he looked at her like that. She choked, "Damn, Justin that was…quite…_smooth_…"

"Think about it," he said warmly, sidling closer, speaking only to her, not the space between them. "Just…promise me you'll think about it."

Kat raised an eyebrow. "Think about what?"

Justin's lips quirked into a smirk. "Katarina Baker, would you consider doing me the honour of deigning to pair-skate with me?"

He was far too close. After a minute, she smirked, "Thought you were supposed to get on your knees…but I'll think about it… As long as you think about what I said." He gave her a sombre look - the kind of look people rarely saw on Justin Davis' face - the kind of look he reserved for his most vulnerable, most intimate moments: She had seen it a couple times.

Somehow, and she knew it had everything to do with the fact she was mesmerised by his pretty eyes, Justin stood _close_, his hand resting on her waist, gazing down at her. He murmured, "I just wanna skate with you, Kat… I'm tired of not caring who I skate with. I just wanna enjoy it again. And get better, better than I've ever been before. I think we can do that together."

"Bar's set a little lower for me," Kat protested gently, and Justin shook his head, still gazing down at her. _Too close_, she thought breathlessly. This was familiar.

"You're the only thing holding you back," Justin told her: He was right, of course. She knew it. It was all in her head. He was too close, stood there all cute and deceptively relaxed.

"How would it even work?" she asked curiously. "Pair-skating? I mean…"

"It's…knowing what's inside the other person's head…without them having to say anything…" Justin said softly. He smirked, his eyes playful, gazing at her lips, as he added, "It's like having _really_ great sex."

"Okay, that's -" she blushed, glancing away. "Okay."

Justin chuckled softly under his breath, still so _close_. He caught her eye, and she couldn't look away. There was something thoughtful and fiery smouldering in his eyes that she couldn't break away from. "Skating together should be no issue for us. It's not like we didn't share an insane night together."

Kat blinked, flushing hotly. Her lips parted, and she tore her eyes away, glancing out over the frozen lake. "I'm…_stunned_ you remember. Figured I was a pretty low notch on a very long bedpost."

She'd hoped she wasn't. She wanted him tortured by memories of their night together, the same as she was.

"Are you calling me a man-whore?" Justin teased.

"I never accused you of being a man," Kat retorted, deadpan, and Justin laughed.

"Touché, Kat…" He leaned in, saying softly, earnestly, "You think I'd forget the best sex I've ever had?" She flushed, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, avoiding his eye, and shivered despite herself. He chuckled softly. "I like this - you, flustered. You're too cute."

She was saved by her phone, buzzing loudly in her hand.

"Is that your Lyft?"

"It's…Jenn."

"She's made a conquest," Justin guessed, and Kat nodded morosely, suddenly feeling badly for taking her anger at Justin out on Jenn. She texted back, apologising for snapping at her. Jenn sent a heart emoji in response. _All is forgiven_. They'd been best-friends for too long - and had far worse fights than this.

It did mean she was on her own to find somewhere to sleep: She couldn't justify sneaking into Jenn's bedroom to sleep, not without Jenn there.

"Where are you headed?" Justin asked quietly.

"Back to my car," Kat said, bringing up the Lyft app.

Justin frowned, asking in alarm, "You're not driving back into town, are you?"

Kat frowned, but understood Justin's horror - his mother had been killed by a drunk-driver. "Of course not."

"Then you're - you better not be thinking of sleeping in your car! Tell me that bartender was joking when he said you've been sleeping in your car!" Justin said, his eyes widening in alarm. Kat was so startled he'd overheard Marcus that she couldn't respond. "Are you _kidding_ me? Anything could fucking happen to you!"

"It's fine," she said, waving away his concerns, startled by the shock on his face - it had been a long time since she had let anyone _care _that much, "I'm parked on Jenn's drive."

"Fuck no, no it's not. No way," Justin objected fiercely. "You're coming home with me."

"Keep dreaming."

"Oh, you are in my dreams, Kat," Justin smirked. "Those little sounds you made while I was -"

Heat flushed her entire body. "_Enough_."

He grinned, but his smile softened to something earnest, concerned, as he said gently, "Come on. I've got heating, running water and a big-ass bed. What's your car offering you - a sleeping-bag, frostbite and the threat of assault and rape? Come on, Kat, you're not this stupid!"

"No… I am that desperate," she admitted, with a bite. It hadn't been easy to find a permanent place to live, what with trying to juggle her shifts around skating full-time. Her focus had been skating. Now…

Justin sighed heavily, looking her up and down with a slight frown on his face. "How long? Since you left home?"

"Like eighteen months," Kat shrugged.

Justin's lips parted, stunned. "Why have you never asked anyone for help?"

"Because…it's easier to just get on with it," she said honestly, and a little embarrassed, too.

"Except it's not," Justin said, looking stunned. "Come on. Where's all your shit?"

"In my trunk. What're you doing?"

"Arranging a Lyft. We're gonna go grab your stuff," Justin murmured, and he overrode her protests. "I'll give you a ride back to get your car tomorrow. Dash gave me the day off."

"I'm not cramping your style, Justin," Kat protested, suddenly more uncomfortable about Justin offering to - _insisting_ he help her - than any of his allusions to their night together.

"Who says you are?" he smirked playfully. "There's always room in my bed for one more."

"Ugh!" she grimaced, crinkling her nose, and he laughed outright, his eyes twinkling with delight as a silver sedan drew up in front of them. Justin checked it was their ride, and he opened the back passenger-door for Kat before ushering her into the car, guiding the driver first to Jenn's house, where Kat grabbed her _Osprey_ backpack full of her everyday stuff out of her trunk, then to the Lodge, where Justin sweet-talked the night concierge into creating a key to his suite - he hauled her backpack over his shoulder, grimacing at the weight, and punched his thumb for the elevator before passing her the slim card in its sleek matte sleeve embossed with the Pinecrest Lodge pine-tree motif.

"What's this?"

"That's yours," Justin said.

"Justin -"

"Don't even argue with me," Justin interrupted, watching the lights indication each floor they passed. Kat sighed, leaning against the wall, suddenly more exhausted than she had been all week. The tequila, the sudden cold after her fight with Jenn, Justin's presence…she was tired. She may even have fallen asleep against the elevator wall; a soft ping roused her, and she blinked around the elevator bemusedly as the doors slid open soundlessly to a richly panelled hallway - the luxury suites were decorated the most expensively, of course, every chance to show off the view utilised with strategic panoramic cosy-corners arranged with plush armchairs and fresh flowers that cost at least three times what Kat earned per shift.

Justin paused at the door to his suite - one of the luxury residential suites the Lodge offered to guests who had the money, and shifted her backpack on his shoulder before using his own worn key-card to unlock the door.

"Welcome back to Casa Davis," he said, with a tired smile, docking the key-card so the lights glowed softly into life. She remembered the suite - of course she did; she was the one who ended up cleaning it most weeks! - but it was different in the dark. Warmer, cosy - _intimate_.

She remembered the enormous bed.

And her breath came in shallow bursts as she remembered the soft amber glow and Justin's hands all over her, worshipping her body, taking his sweet time as he thrust his hips with exquisite patience, cupping her breasts from behind as she draped her arms back behind his neck, moaning as she writhed…

_STOP_, she thought, and heard the needle-scratch of her mind changing the old record. She closed the door behind her, hand shaking a little, and took a deep breath before turning to face the open suite, and Justin slinging her heavy backpack onto the bed, already reaching to use a sleek remote to turn on the hidden stereo-system - she grimaced, and Justin grinned lazily as he pressed a button, changing the music from his favoured hip-hop and rap to a mutual favourite, _Classic Radio_. He turned the volume down, to a soft background hum, and Kat realised how quiet the Lodge had been as they'd wandered through; how loud the club had been in comparison, how loudly they'd been listening to music in Jenn's room earlier.

"So…the sheets are clean, extra pillows are in the closet," Justin said uncertainly, leaving Kat's backpack on the bed, stepping away from it.

"I'm not taking your bed, Justin," Kat said sternly.

"Sure you are, the couch is terrible," Justin said, blinking at her as if it was a given.

"_You're_ not sleeping on the couch," she protested, cheeks warming. This was his…_place_, his room: She wasn't putting him out.

"Neither are you," Justin argued lightly, arms crossed over his chest, his expression stubborn.

Kat glanced at him, at the bed, at the couch, and back. She sighed, "Okay, fine - let's just…share the bed."

Justin's eyebrows flew up. "Really?"

She blushed, blurting, "Like you said, it's not like we haven't slept together… And it's a big-ass bed. We can share. We're both adults."

"Okay…no playing grab-ass, though, Kat," Justin chided playfully. "I need my beauty rest."

"I'll _try_ and keep my hands to myself," Kat said, rolling her eyes and giving him a withering look, but the corners of her lips tugged toward a smile at the smirk on his face. He chuckled.

"Me too," he promised, holding up his hand, his pinkie-finger extended. "Deal?"

_So much for being adults_, she thought warmly, hooking her finger around his. "Deal."

"Thank God, I did not wanna have to sleep on that couch," Justin admitted, and Kat laughed. "Wanna play cards?"

"Sure, for a little while," Kat said quietly, and Justin nodded, going to the dresser, starting to pull out pyjamas from the middle drawer. She'd thought maybe he'd head back out to the club - it was barely one-thirty and Justin was a notorious heavyweight when it came to partying. "Hey, Justin? I…know I can be a real bitch to you sometimes -"

"You're not a bitch, you're a hard-ass," Justin interrupted fiercely, frowning at her. "There _is_ a difference. You set boundaries, and, as far as I can tell, you always have a good reason. Except when you're being a dumbass about sleeping in your car."

Kat's lips parted. "I was gonna say something nice but I don't think I will now."

"You know I'm right," he said solemnly. "Why tempt fate?"

"It's…not like I have many other options," she stammered honestly, watching him retreat to the bathroom, blinking quickly as he stripped off everything but his jeans to throw in the hamper for the hotel laundry to deal with. _Shirtless_… _BREATHE, KAT_, she reminded herself, stunned. "I was…_gonna_ say that…your mom would've been proud of you tonight."

"For getting you into my bed by any means necessary?" Justin smirked, trying to joke his way out of any kind of reminder of his mother, but something flickered in his eyes.

"For…seeing through the bullshit and making sure I was safe," Kat said, sighing, suddenly exhausted all over again. "So…thank you. I don't know how to show my appreciation most of the time, but…thanks."

"You're, uh, you're welcome," Justin said, with that warm, soft look on his face she recognised, and could barely resist. He propped himself against the doorframe, giving her a prime view to ogle unabashedly - if she so chose…and she fought hard to keep her eyes on his face. He smirked, as if he knew it, too. "Now, about that _cuddling_."

"Justin," she warned sternly, and his lips quirked toward another smirk, his eyes glinting. "You better behave or I'll clean out your mini-bar."

He gasped delightedly. "They restocked it? _Yay_…" She rolled her eyes, and turned her back to unzip her backpack as he disappeared into the bathroom: She heard running water, but he'd left the door ajar, so when she had quickly changed into her long-sleeved grey nightdress, leggings and fluffy bed-socks, she didn't feel awkward in pushing the door open wider so she could use the sink and take off her makeup.

Justin was doing his own night-time skincare routine. Kat raised an eyebrow: He didn't see, too busy raising his own at her pyjamas.

"Some guys get lingerie," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"I was wearing lingerie, earlier," she reminded him, setting her washbag down on the counter. "Should've taken a picture."

"Who says I didn't?" he smirked.

"What is all this?" she asked curiously, ignoring him, eyeing the neat arrangement of bottles and pots.

"_Mandy_," Justin said grimly. "She got me into it. She's a skincare and sunscreen _fanatic_. Feels good after I shave, and after I've been on the ice all day."

"I have to use so much moisturiser after being at the rink," Kat groaned, setting to removing her makeup with cleanser. It was a treat to stand in front of a mirror to do it, with warm water and a soft washcloth.

"Looks like I'm not the only one into their skincare," Justin said, eyeing her bottles and pots.

"A friend from camp introduced me, he's…sort of a self-taught guru about this kind of stuff. Plus, _mascara_," Kat said thoughtfully. She hadn't texted Gabriel in a while.

"Why d'you wear makeup at the restaurant and for competitions, but never at the rink?" Justin asked suddenly.

"At the rink? What's the point, I'm just gonna sweat it off? Waste of money," Kat said, adding honestly, "I get better tips at the restaurant when I look pretty, so…"

"Huh. Never thought of it that way."

"Yeah, well, I once had a guest at the hotel tell me I looked like a trash-bag," Kat sniffed, rinsing her face in warm water - _delicious_! She had missed little luxuries like this.

"You spit in their drink?"

"Not even worth it," Kat muttered, and sighed as she used a cooling cucumber-rose toner, making her skin sing, before massaging lashings of moisturiser into her face. The snow, the makeup, her exhaustion, it all took its toll on her body - on her skin, too: She did get dark bruises smudged under her eyes when she was exhausted.

The sudden intimacy struck Kat as they both started brushing their teeth. People in months-long relationships sometimes didn't hit this stage - she had _never_ reached this stage with…with Dave. Getting ready for bed after a really, _really_ long week, just…talking. Nothing sexual, just tired, and relaxed, and intimate.

Scary shit.

She tucked her things away, saw Justin roll his eyes as she carried her washbag back to her backpack, but…this was _his_ room and she hated being an imposition, it was one of the reasons why she had never taken Marcus up on his offer to sleep on his couch.

Kat had tucked her sleep-mask on top of her head before folding everything away neatly, and heard the bathroom door softly latching as she sat down at the table with a deck of cards. She glanced up, saw Justin in nothing but midnight-blue plaid pyjama bottoms, and her mind went blank temporarily. His face split into a grin, eyeing something on top of her head.

"No, no - wait, _this_, I love _this_!" he laughed, and she scowled as he pointed his phone at her, grinning as he took a picture. He came closer, still smiling delightedly, and she realised he meant her sleep-mask. It was black, sewn with silver embroidery that read 'FUCK OFF'. "Where did you get that? It's very Fiona Gallagher of you."

"Jenn gave it to me for Christmas…" Kat trailed off, blinking confusedly. "She knows Fiona Gallagher is my spirit animal, you watch _Shameless_?"

"Uh-huh. Don't look at me like that," Justin grinned, adding with a luxurious groan that made her shiver, "_Emmy Rossum_."

Kat stared, then realised, "Right. She is naked half the time." Justin slung himself into a chair opposite her, swiftly tapping at his phone. "What're you - ?!"

"That is now your profile pic on my phone," he chuckled delightedly, showing Kat a grumpy picture of herself wearing the mask, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, looking sleep-deprived and irritated. "Every time you call me, I'll be reminded of this vision before me." He smirked, eyeing her up.

"This vision cleaning you out of mini bottles of tequila," she warned, holding up the cards, and Justin smiled, setting his phone down.

"Hey, you remember when you were like an _au pair_ for the twins last year?" he asked. "We did that poker night with the Halloween candy? _Air Heads_, pretzels, _Pop Rocks_, _Redvines_, _Jolly Ranchers_, gumdrops and _Baby_ _Ruth_ bars as currency?"

"The boys literally can't play poker for toffee," Kat smirked. Another thing she owed to Gabriel: Teaching her how to clean out at poker. "That was a great night. Was it _Uncle Buck_ we watched or _Ferris Bueller_?"

"That night? Uh…_Uncle Buck_ \- I remember; the boys tried to make giant birthday-cake pancakes for breakfast the next morning," Justin said, shaking his head.

"That's right. Took hours to clean up after them," Kat sighed. "They were sweet. Misguided, but sweet."

Justin sighed, as she pushed cards toward him across the table. Almost as if to himself, he murmured, "I miss our movie nights."

Tradition throughout their childhood, Kat remembered going over to the Davis' house with Serena, having early dinner with the boys; their mother would make treats for them to have while they watched a mom-approved movie. The Davises had had a home theatre that reinforced how tired and dirty the local movie-theatre truly was; it was as much a treat to curl up under a thick blanket on one of the velvet seats, watching old Disney movies, as it was to snack on Mrs Davis' sweet-and-salty marshmallow popcorn. Kat had tried making it since, wanting to keep the memories alive, the _tradition_ \- even though Mrs Davis had gifted Carol all her recipes in a gorgeous scrapbook full of pictures of the girls and the Davis boys playing together, Kat just couldn't get them to taste the same.

"Me too," she admitted quietly. She missed Mrs Davis. She missed the warmth and…the feeling of _safety_ Kat had always felt when she was with her, the sense of security she knew, even from a young age, was lacking in Carol.

Justin caught her eye, shuffling the deck, and smiled sadly. They started to play gin rummy - his mother's game. She had taught it to them when they were still little: Kat liked to play with Serena - it was the only time she banned Serena from using her cell-phone.

"Hey, Justin…?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah?" He raised his eyes from his cards.

She gazed at him for a moment, before asking quietly, "Are you lonely?"

He stared back at her, and then admitted, "Most of the time. I'm either…in a crowded club or…here…and I don't know which I hate more."

"Yeah," she nodded, understanding perfectly. In her car, alone; or rushed off her feet at the restaurant, or hopping in between tutoring gigs and other odd jobs she took on to make ends meet.

"Must be weird, without your mom and your sister."

Kat shrugged. Weird, but at the same time…a relief. Carol, she had learned to deal with, to work around: But Serena…she was the one who was becoming the hard work. She had left home to save herself; but she saw Carol's influence over her sister every day. She didn't like the bitch Serena was becoming - but it wasn't up to Kat to raise her, not anymore, not since she'd put her foot down, and decided it was time for Carol to be the adult, and for Serena to see their mother for the vicious train-wreck she truly was. Kat knew one thing: Serena's attitude couldn't outlast Carol's episodes. "Yeah."

"How bad was it?" Justin asked tentatively.

"Bad enough I'd rather risk sleeping in my car," Kat said, not offering up any specifics. She'd chugged two glasses of water, was onto her third and kept sipping as they played, the effects of the alcohol wearing off.

"I didn't realise it was…bad."

She glanced up, locking eyes with him. "No-one would," she assured him. "It's okay."

"D'you worry about her? Serena?"

"Always," Kat said, without hesitation. She sighed heavily, her eyes on her cards but her mind wandering. "I'll always worry about Serena."

"Sometimes I wonder who the twins would've been if Mom hadn't…" Justin broke off, shaking his head, arranging his cards. "They're just like _him_."

"Drew has a lot more of Mandy in him," Kat said gently, and Justin pulled a face. "That's not a bad thing."

"I know. We'd all be worse off without her." He seemed stunned to have admitted it out loud.

"Have you ever told Mandy that?"

"No. Don't go telling her; I've got a reputation."

"For being a pain in the ass," Kat said, and Justin smirked. "People like to know they're…appreciated, sometimes, you know?"

"Is that why you left home? I mean, I've noticed a difference in Serena's attitude since you moved out, everyone has," Justin said, and Kat flushed. She knew Serena's behaviour reflected on her, the same way Carol's affected how people judged her daughters. She was…sort of gratified that people had noticed Serena was worse off without her influence - or…just _worse_. "It's like you were the only influence keeping her in check, you know? Now she's a raging -"

"Careful… She's always been Carol's girl…her favourite, our mom's champion. It's been always been me against my mom, and…me trying to protect Serena from my mom dragging her into the middle of it…" Suddenly upset, a recent sting irritated by their conversation, she scoffed, "The other day, she told me it's better at home _because_ I'm gone…as if _I'm_ the problem - whatever. Doesn't matter…" She tidied her cards, and, feeling flustered and flushed, disbelieving that she'd been so close to slipping, she cleared her throat, declaring, "I need sleep." Justin raised his eyebrows, but didn't argue, didn't coax her to stay up and play longer. She paused at the enormous bed. Glancing over shoulder, she cleared her throat and asked, "Which…side are you?"

"Alarm clock," Justin said, pointing, and she saw his phone-charger neatly arranged on the bedside cabinet. "You can have the window." She nodded, walked around to her side of the bed, and tugged back the sheets, special 900-thread-count sheets reserved for the residential suites, to complement the feather-topped mattress and the eiderdown duvet and perfectly plump pillows. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching Justin dim all the lights but the lamps in the bedroom.

She hadn't intended for him to climb in with her just because she was going to sleep; but at the same time, didn't want to push him away if he wanted to go to bed. She tucked herself in, and relaxed into the mattress with a sigh, remembering…

Kat called it the princess-bed. Fit for royalty. She remembered this bed.

Not even memories of their last night together in this bed could shake her out of her exhaustion. She was just…so…tired…

She rolled onto her side, peeking up from her sleep-mask, saw him turning off his early-morning alarm before connecting his phone to charge, and as she settled in, she murmured, "Thanks, Justin."

Kat tucked her sleep-mask back in place, and didn't see Justin's smile lingering as he luxuriated in the expensive sheets, sighing contentedly for the first time in a long time, Kat beside him a comforting presence warding away the exhaustion, the…hollowness and desperation he had been starting to feel more and more the last few years, as his passion for skating was outweighed by his unhappiness with his partner, with…with his _life_…everything off the ice was a shit-show. Everything on the ice was starting to resemble it, too.

He was tired of it.

He wanted to skate with Kat.

He wanted to look _forward_ to skating.

It had started to become a chore. And that was dangerous. If his love for skating started to slip, that was it - he was done.

He wanted to feel the way Kat looked whenever she was on the ice.

He couldn't believe she'd been sleeping in her fucking car.

Anything could've happened to her, and it made him flustered and angry to think about it.

She was so guarded, something _might've_ happened - and no-one would ever have known.

He doubted her bitchy sister could crack that enigmatic, stern exterior - or be _bothered_ to - he'd guess her sister was part of the reason Kat put up such strong walls to keep herself guarded. More than one girl had been reduced to tears by Serena Baker, but butter wouldn't melt in the eyes of her mother, who was the worst of the worst of the mean mommies. Kat was as unlike her mother and sister as midnight and noon - they were bright and flashy, but she was gentle, mysterious and dangerous, mesmerising.

She was a complicated person, he'd known that since they were kids.

He'd just…never realised she thought she had no one she could turn to for help.

Perhaps she honestly thought she didn't.

Or, like arguing over the couch, she…didn't want to put people in an awkward position, even if it was dangerous for her not to press the issue.

Sleeping in her car…

A soft sigh beside him; Kat was already asleep. She was safe, for tonight at least.

He'd liked having her here - talking as they cleansed away the day, playing cards… It was nice to _talk_, without the thump and grind of grating club mixes, without the full court press, without the expectation…

It'd been nice just…being with her.

He'd go to sleep before bedtime every night if he thought he could spend the last hour playing cards with Kat and teasing her. He liked startling a smile from her; they were so rare.

Justin liked making her smile.

And he liked that she didn't tolerate his bullshit, either.

He'd practically dragged her here tonight, but Kat was the one who'd set the terms.

It was her move.

* * *

**A.N.**: As we've seen in his interactions with Jenn about her hip, we know Justin isn't a self-absorbed ass. He's actually a very succinct, very observant guy who seems to find it hard to put himself forward, emotionally. I wanted to establish that Kat and Justin _did_ grow up together; they have shared memories and experiences, and Kat can remember his mother, which adds an interesting layer to their relationship, and Kat's perspective on Mandy.


	6. Collaboration, Not Compromise

**A.N.**: It's been ages, I know! I don't want you to think I've abandoned this baby - I haven't!

* * *

**Falling**

_06_

_Collaboration, Not Compromise_

* * *

"Justin…"

He sighed, warm and relaxed, curled up around something warm and soft… "Mm…?"

"Would you quit poking me with that?"

His eyes shot open. Dark hair glistened in the soft light. Kat glanced over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. He groaned, and rolled onto his back, stretching luxuriously. "Sorry." He sighed, relaxing back into the mattress, warmth cocooning him, for the first time in a long time not feeling exhausted before he'd even climbed out of bed.

"What time is it?" Kat murmured from beside him, curling up on her side to face him. He peered at the alarm-clock.

"A quarter after seven," he yawned. He glanced over at Kat. She had pushed her sleep-mask away from her face, held it in her hand as she gazed across the room, her eyes glinting in the soft morning light. "You have work?"

"Dinner shift. After tutoring," she sighed.

"Reid?"

"Eddie," she curled up, and Justin rolled onto his side to face her. It was strange, sleeping in, waking…waking up to Kat. In her pyjamas, her hair braided over her shoulder, intense blue eyes sleepy…she looked relaxed, for the first time in a long time.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked. Her smile was sleepy, and sweet, and rare.

"Good," she said softly. "You?"

He smiled softly. "I slept great," he said honestly; he _felt_ great for the first time in ages. No hangover! And _Kat_. That was what he'd call a win-win… She hadn't stayed, last time.

He'd woken and found her gone, couldn't even pinpoint when it was exactly she'd snuck out of his suite. Just gone… And when he'd called that afternoon, she hadn't answered. He was still desperate to ask why, but…well, pride - wounded pride - prevented him. Sometimes it was just better not to know.

How many times had he rejected calls from girls who'd managed to get his number? He knew why he didn't pick up their calls.

He dreaded that Kat had ignored his for the same reason.

But here she was… Sleeping in her car was better than going back home to her mom and sister; but she'd let him bully her into staying at the Lodge rather than sleep in her car - at the very least, he was on better terms with her than her own family was. That was a start.

And she hadn't outright rejected him when he'd asked her to skate with him.

He hadn't asked her, he knew: He'd…been too embarrassed, after that night they had spent together - too afraid of being rejected by her. Because he _did_ want to skate with her.

And she'd snuck out on him.

"You hungover?" he asked quietly, but she shook her head.

"I'm okay," she said softly. "Coffee, and I'll be good to go."

"Want breakfast?" he asked. "Buffet's still on. My treat." She flicked those blue eyes at him, and he was startled that they weren't the usual intense, hard sapphires he was used to; they were still soft from sleep, relaxed. She gazed at him, and something seemed to sink in.

"I'm not skating anymore," she whispered, almost to herself. She bit her lip. "I could have a _waffle_." He reached out, hand on her waist, and she glanced up at him, biting her lip.

"Is…that your answer?" he asked quietly. Kat sighed, rolling onto her back; he didn't move his hand from her stomach. It felt like she'd melt away if he did, a figment of his imagination.

"I promised I'd think about it," she said softly. "Have you thought about what I said?" He sighed. "I'm… I can't bring the same things to this…this partnership."

"What? Discipline, creativity, talent?" he teased gently. She sighed softly.

"You know what I mean. I…can't contribute, not really. Ice-time, the gym…a choreographer, the costumes. Dasha," she said, wincing, staring up at the ceiling. Justin sighed to himself.

"You know…you're gonna miss out on a lot if you keep worrying about everything," he said, and she sighed softly.

"I know," she half-whispered. "I just… It wouldn't be equal, you know?"

"Why're you so against letting people help you?" Justin asked quietly. Kat licked her lips slowly, staring at the ceiling; she sighed, and glanced at him.

"Because nothing ever lasts," she said despondently. She was worried that he'd dump her for a new partner. She _was_ right; he'd had seven partners in the last five years. And he didn't miss any of them. Nice as Natalie was, they hadn't been friends - now that she'd quit skating, Justin doubted he'd hear from her again… He could never have done _this_ with Natalie, or any of the others. Relaxed…let her in…the way he seemed incapable of keeping his guard up around Kat. She was utterly unfazed by his dad's wealth, Justin's prestige on the ice - if anything, both worked _against_ Justin's favour when it came to Kat, who was stubborn and fiercely independent in real life as much as she was creative and intuitive on the ice.

"Come on, let's go get breakfast," Justin said, deciding to let things be for a little while. "You can be waited on for a change."

"Buffet's self-service."

"Well, then, I will serve you breakfast," he teased. "Whatever you'd like. If that's what it takes."

"One decent night's sleep and a hearty breakfast and you think that'll make up my mind?" she smiled sleepily. "You'd have to throw in a few orgasms for that." Her eyes widened, as if she'd only just realised what she was saying, who she was teasing; he grinned.

"Uh, I didn't realise that was an option," he smirked. "Figured I'd have a better chance getting you a ticket to _Jurassic World_ than giving you more orgasms."

She raised an eyebrow. "You get me to Jurassic World, you can do whatever you'd like with me!" He laughed, and she grinned.

"Come on, let's get ready," he sighed, smiling to himself, relaxing against the mattress again, too warm, too relaxed.

"Yeah," Kat agreed, not shifting.

"Any minute now," Justin yawned. "_Carpe diem_."

"Yeah," Kat yawned, snuggling in, and murmured, "Today's gonna be my bitch."

"Uh-huh…" Justin started drifting off, vaguely aware of Kat sighing beside him, relaxing too. He'd guess she hadn't been able to in a long time.

He bolted upright as his phone started playing music - Rachmaninoff's 'Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini'. The music Dasha had won her gold Olympic medal skating to.

"It's too early for Russians!" Kat grumbled, covering her head with her pillow.

"Sorry," Justin grimaced, eyes bleary as he squinted at the screen. Dasha frowned disapprovingly at him from the screen.

"I thought you said you had the day off?" Kat said, sitting up and looking over his shoulder at the screen. "Why is Dasha calling you?"

"Probably to make sure I'm not drunk in a snowy ditch somewhere, 'cause she knows I have the day off today," he said glibly, and groaned, before accepting the call, untangling himself from the sheets. "Hi, Dash, what's up? I'm just headed to breakfast… Yeah…I'll give you a ride."

"What's that?" Kat asked, as he hung up.

"Dasha. It's Bingo today," he smirked, and Kat raised her eyebrows at him. He shrugged. "It's at the church - she enjoys it. Especially when she wins. Cookies are always stale; I bring cupcakes."

Kat smiled. "You're sweet."

"Don't tell anyone," he said, not for the first time; Kat smirked, laughing softly, and climbed out of bed. He yawned, rubbing his face. "You want the shower first, or…?"

"No, you go ahead," she said, already turning to her backpack.

Twenty minutes later, they were in the restaurant, lined up at the buffet, talking music - he was rap, hip-hop and R&B. She was classic rock, some guilty-pleasure pop, classical, and the occasional country musician - he had to think that was Mandy's influence, after spending so much time at his dad's house tutoring Reid. The boys took after Mandy's musical preference. Because of the rules of their sport - only _recently_ and joyously overturned - all skaters were exposed to classical music and opera very young: Few _enjoyed_ it the way Kat seemed to melt into the movements, embodying the themes and emotion and drama of classical compositions. The reason why everyone stopped what they were doing to watch her skate.

"Grapefruit juice? Are you a masochist?" he teased, and Kat stuck out her tongue as she picked up her full glass.

"I'm pretending there's tequila added," she whispered confidentially, and he laughed as he poured himself a glass of orange juice, following her to their table, carrying loaded plates. He had the day off; he'd indulge. He'd had to twist Kat's arm to do the same; she'd agreed to split a waffle if she could try the Build-Your-Own eggs benedict station that was so popular. "So, can I ask you a question? It's kind of…personal."

"Sure…"

"If we were to skate together…who'd choose the music for our short programme and free skate?" Kat asked knowingly. "'Cause there's no fucking way I'll skate to Yeezy. It's a moral thing." Justin laughed.

"Deal. But no Beyoncé." Kat gasped in mock-horror. "And no Prokofiev."

"What, you don't like Romeo and Juliet?" Kat smirked. "How many times have you tried to get to Nationals with 'Montagues and Capulets'?"

Justin sighed heavily. "Three, I think. Theresa was the first…"

"Oh, I miss her," Kat said softly. "Who were the others?"

"Natalie, of course. We won Regionals with it… And Tinsley."

"God! _Tinsley_…_ That's_ a name best left unsaid," Kat shuddered, and Justin agreed, sipping his coffee. "She makes Serena seem like a wallflower."

"Just don't say her name three times. Bloody Mary, Beetlejuice and _her_ all have one thing in common," he teased, and Kat chuckled, tucking into her steaming eggs benedict, poached eggs drenched in hollandaise nestled on top of sautéed mushrooms and hash-browns. Justin glanced across the table at Kat, thinking quickly.

"_If_ we were to skate together… What do you want to win Nationals with?"

"I like your confidence," Kat rolled her eyes, and Justin smirked, offering her the bowl he'd filled with fresh fruit.

"Come on. Teamwork's about _collaboration_, right? Not compromise," Justin said, cringing as he realised he'd heard Mandy say that before. Kat smirked at him.

"Did you read that in a fortune cookie?" she teased.

"No; Mandy. She serves up Southern wisdom with her sweet tea." Kat laughed.

"I guess she's right," Kat smiled.

"Anyway… Dasha usually picks the music," Justin shrugged. Kat pulled a face. "What?"

"Well, it's just… Music's so personal. When you're not invested, it shows," she said, and he agreed.

"So what would you have us skate to, _Jurassic Park_?"

"Uh, not likely. That's been done before."

"Curse you, Tonya Harding," Justin smirked. "I wouldn't even be pissed if she'd actually won… Think she did it?"

Kat chewed thoughtfully, sipped her juice, then shook her head. "No. Only one who suffered from that whole mess was her. If she was involved, it backfired royally. But I don't think she had anything to do with it. Kerrigan was named to the Olympic team by _default_, even though she never qualified in a fair skate. She had some _bruising_ and had to do some rehab. She won Silver, and pouted like a spoiled bitch on that podium… I don't know, she seemed entitled, you know? Just because she _looked_ like what a skater should be doesn't mean she was entitled to win the Gold. Oksana Baiul was joyful, she was fluid, she had the _spark_; she deserved the Gold. Kerrigan's skate was _dull_. Harding pushed boundaries, she was unapologetic. And somehow she ended up being banned from skating for life, for something she had nothing to do with!"

"Mandy says she knew how to play the game. Kerrigan."

"Oh, _definitely_," Kat agreed. "My mom says the same. It's all a big game. Listen to _AC/DC_ all you want, but the second you get out on that ice, you better wipe off your eye-makeup, fix up your hair and make like you love Tchaikovsky."

"You always seem like you do love it."

"I do," Kat admitted, shrugging a little. "I love skating to classical music…maybe I'd even sneak some soundtrack scores in, but… If I'm driving, and I've had a bad day, you can bet it'll be 'Highway to Hell' pounding through my stereo… That's where Tonya Harding went wrong; she refused to play the game."

"Still…it's her name people remember. There's a reason the movie's called 'I, Tonya' and not 'I, Nancy'," Justin said, and Kat smirked. "If not for Tonya Harding, Kerrigan would've made a very forgettable skater. _She's_ not the one who landed the Triple Axel."

"You know…before my fall… I was working on it," Kat admitted, and Justin raised her eyebrows.

"The Triple Axel?"

"Yeah. Thought I'd take it to Nationals," Kat sighed. "I don't know…ever since my fall, I've realised some things…things about skating, things about myself and… I don't think I could be the same skater, even if I got my head right."

"How do you mean?"

"I'd…listen to my own instincts more," Kat said thoughtfully. "Stop listening to people who don't have my best interests in mind."

"Your mom?" Justin guessed, and Kat nodded, eyeing him carefully.

"I let her dictate… I thought she knew best, you know? Even when it contradicted what I felt, and what my coach told me… After my fall, I realised - she never even made it to Nationals," Kat said.

"Why did your mom quit?" Justin asked curiously. "I know she skated before she had you."

"Oh, she had to quit because she _had_ me," Kat said, and Justin stared. Her smile was bittersweet - more bitter than sweet. "She was with some guy for a while, like two years, a skater or a coach, I'm not sure which - when she got pregnant, her parents said she could keep me or keep skating… When I finally arrived, she refused to give up either. It's the kindest thing she ever said about it… But she took it for granted that my grandparents would let her do whatever she liked, that they'd take care of me while she skated. They stopped paying because it was clear I wasn't her priority… Tough love. She had to figure it out."

"So she quit."

"And blamed me every day since," Kat said. "Like it's my fault she couldn't use birth-control." She shook her head, sipped her juice, and turned to her breakfast.

Justin bit his lip, then said, "Explains why she's so…tough on you and Serena."

"Yeah. The phrase 'living vicariously' comes to mind," Kat said. "It would've been different if she'd been forced to stop because of an injury…"

"Like a head contusion or a ruptured hip." Kat blinked, and frowned at him, leaning forward in her chair.

"You…you know about Jenn?"

Justin nodded slowly. "Has she even seen a doctor?"

"She has. He told her to rest her hip. Not that she'll listen," Kat said. She gave him a measuring look. "Keep an eye on her?"

"Sure… You haven't talked to her about it?"

"Of course I have. But I got back on the ice weeks after cracking my skull open, she's not gonna listen to _me_ about taking it easy," Kat said. "And she's skating against Serena." Justin pulled a face. "What's the face?"

He sighed. "No disrespect to the others at the rink, but…you're the best out on the ice, and everyone knows it. And your sister…she doesn't come close. Yeah, she's got the technique…but not the heart. Jenn has the heart, but not the technique."

"What about me? What am I missing?"

"I don't know. The guts," Justin smirked, and Kat punted him under the table with her toe, giving him that intense look he knew so well. "What about _me_?"

"You?"

"Yeah."

Kat gave him a thoughtful, searing look, like she was looking right through him. "You don't _lack_ heart, I think…maybe you're just a little heart_sick_." She sighed. "Maybe we could all use a break."

"Take a mental health day?" Justin teased, and Kat shrugged. He sighed. "If…if we don't skate together - I'm not gonna start on you, I promise… I just wanna know what you'll do instead."

"I don't know," Kat said, shrugging slightly. She smiled softly. "Guess I'm excited to find out, you know? I've only ever skated."

"Isn't it…daunting?"

"Not daunting, so much as kind of _sad_, you know," Kat admitted. "My whole life has been about skating, getting to the Olympics. I can't ever remember not _skating_. Deciding, myself, to do something completely different…it's actually kind of liberating." She gave him a look. "I'm gonna keep my options open… Keep tutoring, definitely, because I enjoy it. Maybe save up and take night-classes at the community college, or seriously start up my own costume business."

"Costumes? Like custom?" Justin asked, and Kat nodded.

"Yeah. My mom taught me to sew when I was little; I've been making mine and Serena's costumes since I was fourteen," Kat said, and Justin raised his eyebrows; he'd never be able to tell their costumes were homemade. Kat always looked stunning - but then, she could wear a trash-bag and still look gorgeous. "I have my sewing machine, and with social media… I'd be a lot more reasonable price-wise than the apparel store, figure I'd get steady business that way…unless my _mom_ decides to sabotage me."

"She'd do it, too," Justin said, reflecting on Carol Baker. He eyed Kat, who nodded glumly. "Listen, if you do decide to start your own costume business…I'd back you - I don't mean financially, so quit squirming. I mean, just - not letting your mom ruin your chances. More kids on the ice listen to me than the mommies do Carol. And what their darlings want… Plus, you know your stuff; you've won every competition you've ever skated in, and we all know costumes play a part in that."

"Every competition but one," Kat muttered, almost to herself. She glanced at Justin, giving him a noncommittal, bashful smile he knew so well, as if she was surprised at his offer to support her venture. "Thank you… What about you? What would you do, if you didn't skate?"

"Gigolo, definitely," he joked, and Kat rolled her eyes, but let him deflect. He sighed. "You could do it? Just walk away?"

"I'm not saying it wouldn't crush my heart and my soul, when all I want to do is just…see how far I could really go, but… Adapt or die, right?" Kat said, with a pained smile. "My mom's been bitter about it since the day she hung up her skates; I'm not gonna inflict that damage on the people in my life. I know better."

"Well, thank God we have insane parents whose examples we've learned _not_ to follow," Justin said, raising his coffee-cup, and Kat smiled sadly as she raised her own cup to delicately chink against it.

"I'll drink to that," she agreed. She smiled warmly across the table as he drained his coffee-cup, maintaining eye-contact, and he licked his lips as he set his cup down.

"Hey, Kat…?"

"Yeah?"

"I really hope you don't decide to quit."

Kat stared back at him. "It's your move, Justin."

He understood that he had the power in this scenario. But he also acknowledged that Kat had set the terms that could either make or break their partnership. He couldn't apologise for his father's success, or guarantee that Kat's worst instincts wouldn't come true - because he knew his dad, and…and Kat did too; she saw right through him.

How could Justin prove to her that he was all in?

From the moment that blade went through Natalie's boot, all he'd thought of was the opportunity to finally - _finally_ \- skate with Kat. He'd gone about it the wrong way, using Dasha, and Jenn - his dad did things on his own terms, for his own agendas - but… Justin just wanted to skate with Kat.

Natalie was a sweet girl, and Justin regretted her injury, because he didn't enjoy people suffering: He also acknowledged that he hadn't been invested in their partnership for a long while before Natalie fell.

How could he prove to Kat he was committed to skating with her, when she wouldn't get out on the ice with him until he had proven he was committed to skating with her?

Maybe Dasha would know. He'd use their weekly Bingo talk to try and figure it out.

After breakfast, he dropped Kat off at her car so she could get on with her day. When he picked Dasha up at her penthouse, she gave him a weird look. "What?"

"You're smiling."

"Am I?" he pursed his lips, but couldn't help smiling as he indicated and pulled out onto Main Street.

"What happened last night?" Dasha asked shrewdly. In Russian, she added, "Tell me." Justin sighed, gave Dasha a sidelong look, and admitted everything. He had few secrets where Dasha was concerned: He trusted her absolutely.

She fully endorsed him partnering with Kat, even if no-one else did - even Kat.

Dasha knew Kat had _it_ \- the spark that was so rare it appeared barely once in a generation.

Kat was the total package: Beauty, talent, intuition, ingenuity, elegance and charisma.

And she was tough. Justin hadn't realised just how tough. She knew herself, and had decided to stop apologising for it.

He'd be curious to see the skater she could become, if she _didn't_ let herself quit.

And he wanted to be along for that ride. He wanted to be part of that. Because he felt like, if they worked together…they would be unstoppable. They would be _exceptional_.

They would be remembered.

And whenever it was he decided to retire from skating, he wanted to be proud of the fact that he had made skating history with Katarina Baker. The rest of the world didn't realise how special she was, but Justin…he'd known it since they were children. There was something utterly unique about Katarina Baker, and he wasn't embarrassed to admit - to himself - that he just…wanted to be near her. To be a part of her life - he wanted her to be the best part of the best part of _his_ life. Skating.

She was right, of course. He didn't lack heart when it came to skating, but he was tired; he either needed a break, or a jolt out of his growing apathy.

He got the feeling Kat wouldn't _let_ him be anything but totally engaged with skating again. She was so passionate when she skated - she worked harder than anyone out on the ice, but she was still fiercely in love with the sport. She would demand the same from him, or it wouldn't work.

She was a hard-ass, and he loved that.

He remembered her taking control during their night together, setting the terms, and…they just _fit_. Him pushing her, her reining him in; balance. _Collaboration_. They'd learned each other, worked together, to get what they both wanted, somehow known what each other _needed_.

* * *

**A.N.**: It's been ages since I updated this fic, I know! I've been obsessed with _The Vampire Diaries_, _Outer Banks_ and _That 70s Show_! I'm not sure when you can expect more updates for this fic, but I won't abandon it, I promise!


End file.
